A Different Upbringing
by oca2073
Summary: What changes would a normal upbringing have on Harry and the decisions he will go on to make in the upcoming Wizarding War? CURRENTLY IN YEAR TWO.
1. Chapter 1

It all began with a simple decision made by Albus Dumbledore several weeks after he had left Harry to his relatives. Instead of simply assuming the goodness of all relatives who would surely wish to help a poor, orphaned nephew, Dumbledore found himself reflecting upon the rumoured ill-will between Lily and her muggle sister. Deciding that he wasn't one to take a chance on this at all, he owled Gringotts late at night with an order to compensate the Dursleys for an amount of three hundred galleons per month straight from his own account. He could always have the Ministry compensate him as well, as they would be just delighted to inform the public that they were providing for the orphaned Boy Who Lived. Having decided that on this occasion that satisfying such pecuniary self interest would likely have a more beneficial than malevolent effect, Dumbledore wrote the letter informing the Dursleys that they could expect such regular payments to continue so long as they took good care of Harry.

This simple change of heart by Dumbledore had a profound effect on the upbringing of the Boy Who Lived who passed a much more regular childhood. While Harry still noticed that his relatives resented and often shunned his presence, he took it well understanding that they were not his parents, and therefore could never be exactly compelled to shower him with affection, even though he knew they were getting paid for it from a wealthy benefactor that he had overheard the Dursleys telling Marjorie Dursley. But he never lacked any food to eat, he was never punished unless he really felt he deserved it by playing a prank often with Dudley for amusement. (Dudley of course was never punished for complicity). Before the age of eight, he had experienced numerous telepathic accidents that had enraged his aunt and uncle and he had been whipped with a belt strap, and then warned sternly never to try that again. But he soon found that he could harness his power, and pretty soon he made sure never to show his abilities in front of his aunt and uncle.

Harry took to searching the libraries both at school and the ones in his neighbourhood searching for an answer to these abilities. In addition to controlled telekinesis, he found he could change the size or shade of colour of anything temporarily, communicate precisely with pet dogs, and even more precisely with snakes that he had encountered on a school trip to the zoo. And if he concentrated very hard he could even teleport short spaces but he found this only worked if there was no one watching him.

He never came close to finding the truth and in his young enthusiastic mind he was convinced that there were super humans with these special abilities hidden from the prejudiced world, and very much looked forward to the day when he could interact with them and join their secret society.

Harry also regularly had to perform chores for his relatives, but it was mostly for things that he found mildly interesting, such as gardening. Anyways the Dursleys were well off enough to hire a maid to clean the house on week-ends. During the summers and Christmas vacations, the Dursleys would always vacation in Majorca while he would be left in the care of Mrs. Figg who always seemed to Harry as if she was hiding something from him, terribly nervous.

Harry was always tall for his age, and although wiry, he often best his own cousin in a fight with his superior agility and reflexes. At school, he was relatively popular even though the sense of his own power and abilities made him feel distinct and superior from the rest of the kids. While he had shown his special powers to them on several occasions to get them to believe his stories, he found that they would always forget it all strangely enough, a few days later. He never dared to tell an adult, given his experience with the Dursleys and he was intelligent enough to realize from the comics he had read, that he would run the risk of being experimented on.

Harry also never received a present in his life. But once per year, either on his birthday or at Christmas, or sometimes on both occasions if he had been growing quickly, the Dursleys would buy him a new set of cheap clothes plus a pair of shoes that fit him reasonably well.

And so on the eve of his eleventh birthday, it appeared that Dumbledore's gamble had indeed paid off and Harry had had the best childhood he could have hoped for under the circumstances, having been neither spoiled due to his celebrity, exalted status, or crushed by the weight of expectations. He had developed a curious and eager desire to further the abilities that were revealed to him through accident, and then experimentation.

And then a letter was delivered to him several weeks before his eleventh birthday. Strangely enough, Harry who was collecting the mail noticed that it had no stamps or address of sender, and a strikingly detailed knowledge of where he slept, the smallest bedroom of the house. Thinking quickly, before he could march back into the kitchen, and knowing that all his letters were always read in advance by Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia, he pocketed it for later.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing on Harry's mind after he had read the letter, was how to contact those who had written it.

It had to be real, he felt, this had to be that special school hidden away from the rest of the world where super humans with their special abilities would learn to control and further them. Perhaps there was really a world of super heroes out there fighting petty crime and trying to better the world?

Of course they would call it magic. In any case, if the letter had been intercepted it could always be passed off as a stupid prank. It would be dangerous to speak in plain words in case anyone would stumble on the truth. So he discounted most of the nonsense about cauldrons and wands and broomsticks. After all he hadn't needed a wand to access his abilities. He was quite sure that all he had to do was contact the powers to be to acquire more information. For that to work the letter specified that he had to make contact by the end of July, coincidentally his birthday. This had to be a test for him of some sorts.

He wasn't quite sure how to get the Dursleys out of the way or who to turn to. But as luck had it, the Dursleys left for their annual summer vacation to Majorca where they owned a second house, and Harry was left to Mrs. Figg. Mrs. Figg was even more agitated this year than usual and one day, approximately three days before the deadline she asked him in a very different tone about the letter.

"So now that you've received your letter, you must be just excited about Hogwarts…"

"What?"

"Your letter," said Mrs. Figg as she fixed him with a steady glare and proffered a plate of home-baked cookies. "I mean your acceptance letter to Hogwarts."

"What?"

"Haven't you received it?" Mrs. Figg looked exasperated. "I must contact Dumbledore otherwise. You know, school for learning magic and potions… that your parents attended…"

"Seriously?"

Mrs. Figg assured Harry that since she no longer needed to pretend that she knew nothing about the wizarding world, so also he no longer needed to pretend to know nothing about it to strangers. Harry just listened dumbfounded while schooling his emotions to appear as if he knew everything as she prattled on about being a squib and the need to keep the secrets of someone called Dumbledore. Finally, when she mentioned Diagon Alley, he interrupted her.

"But I don't know exactly how to find the places where they sell the magical equipment? Exactly where is Diagon Alley located?"

Harry did not know whether or not to believe her, it seemed unlikely to be an elaborate prank as Mrs. Figg was certainly not a pranking person, and she would have had to go through the process of sending a fake letter. But nevertheless, everything he had heard was so incredible that he felt compelled to discount it immediately. But then again, maybe his abilities were magic, or whatever they decided to call it? And he did assume the existence of a secret society of some sort for people who were like him. He would ultimately need to see the proof with his own eyes in order to believe.

He took the bus the next day to London and took the underground to Charing Cross but he dared not enter the pub called the Leaky Cauldron that Mrs. Figg had described. For the first it looked like a shady place that nobody entered, and Harry had heard enough of how children were abducted. But ultimately, even though Mrs. Figg was batty Harry had stayed at her house enough times to realize that she could have done something to him long ago.

As time went on, and he observed the entrance from a bench on the other side of the street, he saw that very oddly dressed people were the only ones who occasionally entered and left. And only very occasionally. Aha! That had to be a secret society, Mrs. Figg had not lied to him. Harry jumped off the bench, crossed quickly and entered the pub.

It was a severe disappointment to be sure. Very old fashioned and dark, Harry didn't even know that such pubs existed anymore, and the people inside were all dressed in very black robes and dumbfounded he watched as a man tapped a stick on his very strange clothes he had seen from the outside and before his eyes they changed into black robes as well.

Harry rubbed his eyes and cleared his head. But then again, couldn't he do the same thing with his so-called "magic"? Not so effortlessly and seamlessly of course, but perhaps that was what school was for.

The pub was moderately crowded and nobody noticed as he flitted around and listened to strands of conversation.

"And I still can't believe that Albus Dumbledore turned it down and we got that idiot Fudge instead…"

Harry froze as that name Dumbledore came to him again.

"And Harry Potter will be starting first year I heard, my twin daughters will be in the same year as him…"

Harry ducked away and wondered how come this secret society would know or care so much about him, his mind spinning away. But he could think of no reason. He thought about asking someone for help to find the place where he could buy all these magical things, because this pub did not look like the place, although it was obviously a hideout for a secret society. But then again he didn't feel like being overwhelmed by attention.

He followed a crowd of people as they moved to a corner of the pub he hadn't visited and they exited into a small courtyard. Then before his eyes, he saw another stick tapping bricks, and then the wall just crumbled away and he finally saw Diagon Alley.

It was beyond anything he had ever imagined, hundreds of similarly dressed people... No, witches and wizards, he thought. It had to be, that letter wasn't a trick at all. There had to be magic, and he had to be a magician.

A wizard, he corrected himself a moment later, staring wildly at shops selling an assortment of strange potion ingredients, wizarding robes, cauldrons, strange silver instruments, telescopes, books, quills? Many things he knew were on his list.

So this was where he belonged, he reflected. And if Mrs. Figg was correct as she had been about this, his parents had been part of this world too.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry had always been told by his relatives that his parents had died in a car crash, and that was that. It had always been that story but of course Harry now knew he had never seen their death certificates or anything like that. But it appeared to be a perfectly reasonably explanation, people died from car accidents all the time. He was pretty sure that being a wizard or a witch didn't exempt one from a possible violent death. Harry also figured that if his parents had been of this world, they might have left him something from this world, and although it was probably controlled by his guardians, he thought he could inquire about it in a bank.

And in his experience, bankers were discreet with their clients.

So he began to search the various stores looking for a branch, but there obviously wasn't any. Maybe in the wizarding world, they used regular money. But it didn't seem likely to Harry, simply because he was pretty sure someone could change other things, wads of paper into pounds and it would be difficult for anything to stop the fraud. At least based on the magic he had seen performed when pink frocks had instantly changed into black robes. It just wasn't convenient.

So it had to be magic money. But where?

Finally he berated himself for being so stupid. Of course the bank had to be the biggest, baddest, grandest building of them all. That was where wealth, power, privilege resided anyways.

He walked up the steps of the marble building with bent columns and realized it was called Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Very strange name. But then again, so was Dumbledore. And secret societies invariably had odd-sounding names that were particular to them.

As he approached the door he realized that the two misshapen statues flanking the doors were really living and breathing.

Harry tried to stay calm and nonchalant as he examined the sharp nose hook and sharp piercing eyes, pointed ears. Were they human? Humanoid? Magical creature? They paid him no heed but stared back when he stared and he pushed past the burnished bronze doors.

What originally would have been a silly-sounding message engraved upon doors warning against breaking and entering suddenly became far scarier when another pair of those… "creatures" were staring down your neck.

A vast marble corridor. Corridors of power, Harry thought. Banks would hold power of course, even though they would do the utmost to conceal it. And Harry had seen no other bank in Diagon Alley.

He smoothed the folds of his clothes, which he realized must seem very odd in this world and approached a counter nervously. The creature stared down at Harry from his high chair and stopped momentarily working with the weights and metals around him. Harry cleared his throat.

"My name is Harry Potter and I have just come back to this world. I wish to know whether my parents left anything to my possession after they died, and whether and how I am able to access it?"

The creature's face was scrawled as he scrutinized Harry. It flipped through the records of a thick tome, it's long gnarled finger rested at a point.

"Yes Dumbledore did say… Harry Potter is coming." It's piercing eyes swept at Harry again and rested… on his forehead.

His peculiar-looking scar? What did that have to do with anything?

"Wait one moment" it said curtly and turned his back on him. Harry waited until he returned with a gold key.

"Touch it," he said almost challengingly.

Harry did so and felt a slight warmth in the metal as he grasped it.

"It's yours then, to keep. As you really are Harry Potter," the creature said with a neat nod of acceptance. "Otherwise you would have been set aflame."

Harry tried not to gawk as he stared impassively back and pocketed the key.

"So may I access whatever my parents left behind?"

"Vault 687," the creature said dismissively and raised a finger pointing to another who had materialized to his right. "Griphook will show you the way."

The ride back from the vault was uneventful, even though it reminded him of the one time he had been on a roller coaster, except subterranean. Harry reemerged into the sunshine with a full bag of gold, feeling at the very least like he had some power in this new world. His first stop, the robes that he was supposed to buy.

He bought the requisite clothes, plus a few spare that he felt he would need on informal occasions. He dressed himself in a set of wizarding robes and immediately felt more a part of this magical world.

His next stop was the bookstore, called Flourish and Blotts. He found all his school textbooks without much trouble and after a lengthy search, stumbled upon a couple of introductory books to the magical world for "Muggle-borns", which he thought must apply to him. He left it at that because he always thought he could return once he learned more.

All the rest, potion ingredients, a telescope, scales, phials was simple enough. Because Harry realized that he would have to owl his acceptance, he also purchased a snowy owl with a cage and some treats, the owl that caught his eye and he felt an intelligence stir within the bird as he watched her ruffle her feathers.

The wand shop however was harder to find, and Harry came to the realization that it must have been a very special magical object indeed to have so few places for wand-makers. A kindly witch manning a stall of potion ingredients pointed him in the direction to Ollivander's and he approached the shop with a feeling of trepidation.


	4. Chapter 4

The shop had towering shelves filled to the brim with tottering stacks that threatened to fall and seemed mostly kept in place only through magic. An old, wrinkled man with silver hair stepped out of the shadows twirling a wand between his own fingers.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," the man smiled pleasantly and spread his hand. "I believe I was to be expecting you this year."

Before Harry replied, the man who could only be Ollivander continued. "I remember every wand I ever sold you know. Every single one."

"Your father received a mahogany wand you know. Eleven inches, excellent for Transfiguration. Your mother on the other hand, Willow. 10 and a quarter inches, good for charmwork. You have her eyes."

Harry blinked and bit back his questions.

"And now you come into my shop ready for your wand. Well let's make a start then."

After having taken his measurements, with self-measuring tape he noticed, Ollivander started tossing Harry boxes and boxes. But none of their wands seemed to do anything at all. Cold and lifeless.

"No, no!" Ollivander cried as he threw away another box. A line had started to form outside his shop and Harry realized he had been trying wands for up to half an hour. "Not elm, 9 inches and dragon heartstring. Try! Try this one! Holly, phoenix feather, eleven inches."

This one Harry felt his magic take hold through its core, but it was strangely restrained and reluctant. Nevertheless he forced it out with all he was accustomed to, and produced a shower of silver sparks.

"Hmm," the wand-maker mused his hand on his chin. "Most intriguing. I think I may have just the wand for you."

He returned moments later with a rather more ornate box and picked out a rather more plain, light brown wand. It was long and a little heavy for his hands and fingers but Harry felt a surge of warmth as soon as he made the contact.

He swept it back and a shower of lustrous fireworks erupted all around, exploding into wonderful sparks of silver, green, gold and red, then blue and bronze and yellow and black. Round and round the small shop the fireworks exploded as he directed its movements, Harry was thankful they did no real damage to the surroundings.

When he lowered his wand again, marvelling at the wonderful feeling, the most wonderful feeling he had ever felt in his life in channeling his magic through this wand, he saw Ollivander eyeing him intently. "Curious, very curious indeed."

"I'm sorry, but what's so curious? It appears this wand works perfectly for my magic."

"Thirteen is the most fateful, unfortunate number. Elder is associated with death, yet phoenix with life."

Harry began to scoff, but then took it back as he realized he knew absolutely nothing about magic at all. But surely though, it couldn't control fate.

"Do not mistaken what I am telling you," Ollivander said hurriedly as though he had read his mind. "The wand chooses the wizard, it does not control his fate. Your fate is up to you, although your wand may certainly have an inkling as to where you will end up, what you might do… It chose you, after all. I think though it's safe to say we can all expect great things from you Mr. Potter."

He chose to venture back into Muggle London to eat a late lunch, after having changed quickly back into his muggle clothes. When he had returned to Mrs. Figg's he quickly owled Hogwarts of his acceptance, writing all the addresses clearly upon the letter and hoping it would be enough as his owl swept off. He then practiced writing with the quill for awhile to get better used to it, and then, steeling away from his new transfiguration and charms books, he opened A History of Magic.

It was quite dull even with the magical element, to Harry it seemed that the wizarding world in its essence was not too much different from the Muggle World and its history. Indeed there were clear parallels and cases where he definitely could see one influencing the other. So he forced himself to sit through the various goblin (those were what he had seen in Gringotts) rebellions, statutes, and wars. They were after all an eye-opener as to where magical society had come from, at least in Britain, while he had a better idea of how it operated in the wider magical world. The International Conference of Wizards had two apparent dead-rock principles: the Statute of Secrecy, and the Statute of Neutrality. Apparently, the only uniform aspects of magical societies across different countries was that they all agreed to hide magic in all its forms away from "muggles." They also managed to agree never to intervene in the magical affairs of another country to prevent all out wars that would invariably spread and cause muggle conflicts as well. That of course, would cause tremendous amounts of loss of life (and property) for everyone, not to mention seriously risk the exposure of magic.

Harry also realized that A History of Magic, while clearly a landmark publication did not detail recent history of the twentieth century to give him any information about his parents or himself and his own apparent fame and so he resolved to return to Diagon Alley the next day to learn more. 


	5. Chapter 5

On the last day of his stay at Mrs. Figg's, Harry trudged back to her door and rang the doorbell.

On his second visit to Diagon Alley, he had spent half the day at Flourish and Bots simply reading as much as he could about the recent of history of this "hidden world" as well as the Guide for Muggleborns by a Hogwarts professor named Charity Burbage. He had, in the course of his reading learnt a great deal about himself and his parents and was feeling profoundly depressed.

Then he had bought a second magical "bottomless" trunk to better fit his possessions to replace the ragged one that he had dragged off to Diagon Alley that he had inherited from the Dursleys.

He had considered on the way back whether or not to confide his feelings to Mrs. Figg but upon seeing her again flanked by three of her cats, he had politely excused himself and returned to his room.

He wept quietly and a few minutes later felt better for it. The past after all was done and he had only the future to look forward to. Besides, at the very least, he had survived against all odds and that was something definitely to be grateful about. He owed it to whatever fortuitous event had happened, to live his present life to the fullest.

After a bath, Harry went downstairs for supper and Mrs. Figg's had fixed a meal of coleslaw and meatloaf spaghetti. After the meal, he had again retreated to his room where he began to experiment with his magic. He now realized that his return to the wizarding world would be eagerly awaited, and that people would be expecting greatness from him just as Mr. Ollivander had said. He had no desire to be unready because that would just be inviting his own exploitation.

He had to become exceptional, even amongst them, as he now knew that simply possessing magical abilities alone wasn't enough. Apparently everyone could use magic in this world.

Happily though, Harry had read from the Guide for Muggleborns, that the ministry clause against underage magic only applied after admittance into Hogwarts, and that prior incidents of "accidental" magic was only natural for a growing and developing witch or wizard. Harry flexed his wand and struck a dramatic pose and then flipped to Chapter 2 of a Standard Book of Spells Grade One. The wand-lighting charm should come in handy, he thought.

Three days after his return to the Dursleys, Harry was still agonizing about the best way to tell them everything without them raising the roof. Given their hostility towards magic, he decided that the best strategy was to employ fright and self interest. He had read after all read from the Daily Prophet that the Ministry was actively helping to fund his upbringing, which basically meant that they had been giving money on his behalf for the past eleven years. So here went nothing. Harry walked into the living room.

His uncle and cousin were sat on the couch watching a sitcom while both fishing their similarly shaped hands into a massive bowl of cheerios. Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen talking on the phone to one of the neighbours. Harry stood in front of them and cleared his throat.

His uncle glared up at him. "Move aside boy." "We're watching the sitcom," was Dudley's contribution.

"Actually, uncle could I have a quick word. This really is important and I'd rather deal with it now than later."

Muttering threats under his breath, Uncle Vernon rose and patted Dudley absent-mindedly on the hair as he continued to shriek with laughter rocking back and forth at the screen and they exited into the hall.

"I just got a letter," Harry began, "from a boarding school that my parents attended…"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU YOU ARE NOT TO SPEAK…"

"along with a scholarship," Harry continued smoothly, "I'll only need to return every summer…"

Uncle Vernon swelled and turned visibly red. "PETUNIA!"

Aunt Petunia excused herself on the telephone and came rushing forth. "IT'S ABOUT THAT RUDDY SCHOOL OF THEIRS." Then to Harry's amazement, Uncle Vernon turned and stomped back into the living room muttering about abnormalities and tricksters.

Harry then calculated that obviously his Aunt Petunia would know a lot more about this magical world than her husband. "If I don't learn how to control it," he said immediately as she entered, "it could spell trouble," he was choosing his words with the utmost of effect as Aunt Petunia's jaw stiffened. "The government of that… my world would insist. And they could withhold whatever… funds they've provided. They would definitely pay the house a visit if I failed to turn up."

Aunt Petunia's just stared at him with with mounting, suppressed anger. "Oh, very well." she said with gritted teeth.

"The scholarship covers everything, there's nothing that I need," Harry said not looking at her. He was getting the impression that she knew a lot more than she was letting on, and so there was no real need to get into the details.

Aunt Petunia stormed back into the kitchen and Harry smiling, mounted the stairs back for his bedroom. He had Chapter 5, the unlocking spell to try out.

In truth the spells were turning out to be a lot easier than he had envisaged. Maybe it was because Harry was rather used to directing his magic and willing it with an specified intention and had done so for years. He found that the major different between his brand of magic and spells was that it was less intuitive and more calculated. For example, in order to master the levitation spell, unlike the telepathy he was used to one had to have a good understanding of the distance and weight involved of the thing you wanted to lift in the air. So for example, Harry tossed one of Dudley's plastic fake rocks from his collection set. If you thought, imagined that it was a real, regular, heavy rock, wingardium leviosa, it would…

shoot up to the ceiling and make a mark on the ceiling. Harry pointed his wand to the ceiling and muttered, "Reparo."

Nothing happened. Ten attempts later still nothing. Harry then again consulted his textbook and spent several minutes trying to envisage the nature of what was broken specifically and what needed to be fixed while simultaneously willing his magic with a strong intention to mend it according to this understanding. A sudden flash of light and the mark vanished. Examining it with one eye, standing on a chair, it was good as new. Almost. A light scar.

Harry suddenly fingered his own scar subconsciously. So the key to mastering the spell, any spell was to understand and have knowledge of the factors involved, as if you really had to perform the action non-magically…

So transfiguration would required detailed knowledge of whatever materials you were intending… even anatomy for live transfiguration that his first grade textbook had warned against attempting. Charms would require understanding of properties… motion, colour, itchiness…

And of course habit would ultimately make performing any spell a matter of ease as you developed a mental pathway. Harry then decided that the possibility of all the spells, their specific wand incantations, movements, the necessary knowledge and thought processes involved certainly far outstripped anything intuition could come up with, imagine, and make work. It was just a far more efficient way of learning magic. 


	6. Chapter 6

The month of August had gone by remarkably fast, as Harry exhilarated with all the new magical possibilities was making rapid progress through his schoolbooks. He had read both Charms and Transfiguration textbooks and felt like he understood the theory, although he hadn't yet found any appropriate materials to attempt any practical transfiguration. He was also extremely excited at the prospect of leaving the Dursley home on a total basis, so that he would no longer have to suffer his cousin's whining, his uncle's threats, his aunt's snappy remarks. Unlike most children Harry actually enjoyed school and preferred it to a summer largely locked in the house or at a neighbouring park or library or Mrs. Figg's at most. This time though, he really was leaving for the unknown and he felt his heart regularly pulse with anticipation every time he imagined it.

An actual castle, with fellow magical students who would be like him, plus a name to prove worthy to. The magical subjects did seem far more interesting than the middle school subjects he would be otherwise learning.

On the first of September, he dressed carefully in his regular non-wizard clothes, triple checked his trunk to make sure he left nothing behind, and the Dursleys drove him and his trunk to the nearest bus stop to London. With his three trips to Diagon Alley, the meagre allowance he had saved up had been almost exhausted but he had just enough to make it to King's Cross.

He stepped on the platform wondering vaguely what House he'd be sorted into, how they would be sorted (because he had read nothing about that surprisingly), and how to get on Platform 9 and 3/4.

He would also have to inquire Gringotts if they had any method of exchanging wizarding money for pounds. He suspected they did.

At the platform now, he found an onrush of passengers pushing trolleys racing in multiple directions and checked the nearest clock that read 10:34. It had to be here somewhere, and he stared at the solid platforms 9 and 10 on either side. Then he looked all around.

Then he noticed the same thing that he had seen at the Leaky Cauldron. None of the "muggles" walking past could really see it, it was as if their gazes jumped from Platforms 9 directly to 10 effortlessly. They couldn't see the in-between, what was the word… liminal. This, then was the magical gateway that none could see.

Unless they were magical.

Harry eyed around and then spotted a bushy-haired girl and her family break into a run, careening across the path of many muggles, but strangely enough although many stopped in their tracks to let them pass, none so much as glanced towards the odd direction they were travelling until…

they were literally swallowed up by the brick wall. Disappeared, vanished out of sight. Harry's jaw dropped but they hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, simply ran through. And he began pushing and racing forward and like the girl from before, not one person paid any attention. The barrier came rushing forth and with a warm feeling, a squelching sound, then a sensation of being squeezed through a narrow tube that he couldn't see, the packed platform came into view and a blazing red and black train belching smoke.

He had found the train and glancing back behind him he saw nothing but another very solid wall and more students with their families popping up into existence. So he pushed forwards towards the train.

He could see what easily looked like hundreds of students either already on the train, or still on the platform chatting or in the process of moving trunks and possessions aboard the train. His owl hooted amidst the excitement as he eyed the spot near the back which was less crowded. He still hadn't thought of a name just yet.

As he was in the process of pushing a very heavy trunk with the owl aboard (he figured there had to be magic to help on occasions like these), he nearly tripped on something and then his foot caught something squishy and soft and he did topple over.

With a crash, he was on the floor groaning to get up, his chin bruised. Something green and slimy with a croak, a toad, hopped past and disappeared down the corridor.

Muttering to himself about stupid people who let stupid pets loose, he stumbled into an empty compartment and promptly lay down on the seats nursing his chin.

About five minutes later, he got up and stared out at the crowd that was beginning to thin now as students scrambled onboard. A whistle sounded and there was frantic movement. Last kisses, waves of goodbye, shouts and laughter, tears and parents and family beginning to depart. Harry saw several faces look into his compartment, but all passed him by and he lay back in his seat and put his feet up. A few moments later, a second whistle and the last person scrambled on board. A few second later and the horn blew, the train rumbled to a start.

After changing into his school robes, Harry decided on an impulse to look around the train. With a handy spell, he locked the compartment door despite knowing the the majority of students could overcome it, simply because he was enthusiastic of using magic in each and every situation he could possibly conceive for. It appeared to be quite an ordinary train however and he was disappointed. On his way back, he stopped by the toilets and found the toad again swimming merrily inside one of its contents and was tempted to flush. He then had to use the other one at the other end of the train. He then went back into his compartment and unlocked the door with magic and fished out his transfiguration textbook again. But because he was so tired out as he was too excited to get any sleep the night before, he fell asleep in less than half an hour.

He was awoken by a tapping on the compartment door and rubbing his eyes before putting his glasses back on, made out the bushy haired girl he remembered from the platform who was accompanied by a nervous-looking boy who was looking up and down the corridor awkwardly, and somewhat, Harry could tell intimidated by her presence. Harry opened the door and learned immediately why.

"Hello, have you seen a green toad. Neville here's lost one." They were fellow first years from the looks of it.

Harry shook his head to clear off the sleep and she was about to close the door again said, "Wait, yeah. It's, well it was in one of the toilets." Getting to his feet, he grabbed his wand reflexively and the boy named Neville eyed him warily.

"Hey don't look so nervous, it's not like I really know how to use it," Harry joked. "Come on, the both of you."

"The toilets?"

"This one I believe. I think you had better wait outside," he assured her and he and Neville entered and he pushed open the door. The toad, as if sensing his master that he wanted to escape from hopped past them dripping. Harry drew his wand.

"Petrificus Totalus." This one missed. "Petrificus Totalus. PETRIFICUS TOTALUS."

The toad froze in halfway leap motion. Neville stared wide-eyed, then hurried forwards to retrieve his toad.

The girl was not so restrained. Examining him more carefully, she suddenly exclaimed loudly, "You're Harry Potter!"

He almost lost it. "Not so loud." The compartment nearest to them suddenly went quiet, Harry rubbed his scar and turned to face the door that was opening, and two red-haired boys popped out accompanied by a third peeping with curiosity.

"Fred and George Weasley, Lee Jordan at your service." They mock bowed and Harry shook hands with them.

"I've heard of you two," Neville spoke up suddenly. "I mean, my gran knows the Weasleys of course, but everyone says you're the… I'm Neville Longbottom by the way."

"Hermione Granger."

"Were the lot of you duelling just now," one of the twins inquired, "a bit… young and early in the school year for that don't you think?"

"Duelling is against the rules at Hogwarts, did you know? Besides, we weren't duelling, Harry was just giving an impressive display of magic…"

"Right everybody I would really prefer it if you didn't go around spreading the word that I'm on the train or what compartment I'm sitting," Harry interjected, "please believe me, I just found out weeks ago about my apparent "fame" and I'd rather wait until you know, Hogwarts and when I get sorted before making the proper introductions."

He graced them all with a forced smile, and Lee Jordan clapped him on the back and the twin Weasleys smirked in a conspiratorial way.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the train ride was over, Harry had met the acquaintance of Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Fred and George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Ronald Weasley, Percy Weasley, Cedric Diggory, Susan Bones, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Parvati and Padma Patil… and was feeling rather bewildered and ill. The way so many people talked about him as if they already knew who he was…

Well, he was almost used to it, and pretty soon he was sure the word would have spread and the entire school would get used to it as well. Besides, looking out at the rain-lashed windows he could see that night was falling which meant that they were nearly there. This train ride to Hogwarts wasn't supposed to be a sleeper. Glancing around, Hermione was engaged in Hogwarts a History, Neville was still clutching his toad and gave him a nervous eye, still evidently in awe with him. Ronald Weasley was snoring next to him, he had just now explained the sporting phenomena of Quidditch to him in much detail and Harry thought the rules were quite pointless to put so much emphasis on catching the one snitch that they rendered everything else that came before quite pointless. He didn't quite get it.

The train came to a screeching halt. Ronald awoke and muttered, "Bloody hell," snatching up his pet rat Scabbers.

"We're here," Hermione announced and sat up immediately. "Oh, come on, the lot of you." And nearly dragging Neville out of the seat, they exited the train as the doors sprang open to welcome the misty night air. In the shadows cast by the flickering torches, Harry made out a giant figure in the distance sporting a shaggy beard and hair calling for first years and they made their approach.

They clambered into the boats on the giant's prompting and Harry glanced around and calculated that the pool of first years was rather small, certainly they did not amount to a seventh of the school, and he wondered why. Halfway across the lake, he guessed it had to do with the Wizarding war just having been ended (by him) on his first birthday and not before.

The view across after they had gotten past the drawbridge was breathtaking. Harry had seen a a moving photograph of Hogwarts before in the "Guide for Muggleborns," but this was something else altogether. The torch-lit towers of the castle cast long silhouettes onto the pale lake and its undisturbed waters. Illuminated by moonlight, the narrow slits and fangled shapes of the buildings twisted in an eerie and incomprehensible fashion, held up by magic of course.

There was a collective gasp of ahs, all around.

When they had embarked on shore and were standing near the gates that led up in a steep trail toward the castle, the giant gathered them all around and knocked three times.

The door was opened revealing a stern-looking witch dressed in austere, black, formal robes wearing a pointed witch's hat. "Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here."

As they followed her past the gates, she led them through the entrance hall and then to the right and they followed her more or less silently. She had a real presence of authority, Harry had to admit, that made even raising her voice unnecessary to enforce discipline.

As they stood outside the entrance to the Great Hall, she turned towards them again. "My name is Professor McGonagoll and on behalf of our headmaster, our teaching staff, and students I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts."

Harry recognized the name from his letter.

"In a short time, you will be escorted into the Hall for the sorting ceremony," Professor McGonagoll continued. "While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be like your very family, you will take your meals together, attend lessons, and earn triumphs or punishments for your house. Individual merits shall result in points gained for your house while rule breaking will result in points being taken away."

"At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be rewarded the House Cup. I suggest you all take a moment to smarten up yourselves while I prepare the Hall for the Sorting."

Moments after she had left, Harry watched with amazement as translucent ghosts popped out of the walls and proceeded to interact with the students. Their expressions ranged from extreme fright, to interest, to apprehension or shyness. Harry stuck a hand surreptitiously into the back of the Blood Baron and withdrew it immediately due to the frigid cold.

When the Great Hall was ready for them, they filed inside in a disorderly line. Harry saw seated on a stool placed high above them, a hat. As if it were to be given some monumental significance and wondered if there was a prank being played. All around he saw hundreds of pair of eyes of students seated along the four long house tables, he took a moment to admire the star-studded night ceiling which looked almost real before turning his eyes to survey the teaching staff.

As he gazed past a peculiar purple turban to a pale hook-nosed, greasy-haired professor who immediately shot him a cold look, he clapped a hand to his forehead which drew the attention and concern of several students for word had spread fast. The white-hot pain such that he had only hitherto experienced in dreams subsided and he muttered with his eyes still closed, "It's nothing…" Then the sorting hat suddenly burst into its song.

When it had finished, Harry felt he had a better understanding of all the houses and was feeling conflicted and indecisive. Resolving to simply let the Sorting Hat decide, he waited patiently through the dozen of names until, McGonagoll called out, "Potter, Harry." And there was a sudden hush.

He strode forwards keeping perfectly composed and expressionless, eased himself onto the stool and placed the quivering, very old and tattered hat on top his head.

It sank right down over his face and Harry could suddenly see nothing but its innermost, darkest recesses.

"Hmm," the hat began. "You have the courage and honour inside of you to be in Gryffindor just like your parents, but it does not appear to be your most prized trait. You value intelligence, but certainly not for its own sake which you wish to apply to the world. You have determination and hard work in spades too, it seems. Most interesting, so where shall I place you?" The sorting hat suddenly gasped and seemed to rumple up itself in a bid to suppress laughter. "Why very well Harry Potter, I see now the great talent you possess. Oh my!"

"This really is tremendous… How could I possibly have missed it before?"

You can see everything inside of me then, Harry thought back. Do tell me more.

"I will not say anymore, the path is up for you to walk, it is yours to choose."

Okay then? Harry thought back.

SLYTHERIN, the hat audibly shouted and the whispers in the hall went dead. 


	8. Chapter 8

The first time Albus Dumbledore had caught a sight of Harry entering the Great Hall, he smiled gently to himself and folded his arms as he surveyed the boy looking glass-eyed at the marvellous ceiling, at the entirety of the Great Hall. He quietly dropped his gaze as the boy began to survey his teaching staff and felt to himself that largely all had gone to plan.

The boy did seem quieter than he would have liked with a penchant for brooding, but he was as normal as Dumbledore would have dared hoped for. There was no apparent arrogance or pride he could see in him, only silent determination and wariness. That was natural for any first year, Dumbledore had assured himself. Most importantly, he had had a normal childhood given the circumstances. He was still smiling to himself in fond remembrance of past times as he watched the boy place the sorting hat over his head.

Well the result was troubling, but Dumbledore knew surely all was not lost. For there were plenty of honourable and resourceful Slytherins who turned out very well but it did mean perhaps there was cause for some concern and a need to keep a closer eye. He would resolve to have Snape watch over the boy; now that they were both in the same House perhaps even old grudges would go to die.

Snape was scowling so deeply that even the students at the furthest ends of the table could see. He was not a happy man and he turned a fierce glare upon Dumbledore who reciprocated with a very gentle and knowing smile.

Harry was certainly taken aback with the reception that he was receiving, if he had know perhaps he really would have begged the hat to reconsider, but alas it was too late now. All around hundreds of uncomfortable stares as everyone tried not to say what was on their mind. His mind was suddenly turning away at a frenetic pace.

At the Slytherin table on the other hand, he saw most of the younger students looked gleeful but a significant number, and this was especially the case with the older students near the back had calculating smiles and knowing looks on their faces that just screamed of mock politeness in their outward manners.

He remembered Malfoy and his two lumbering bodyguards, and a quiet first year named Daphne Greengrass that he had met on the train and found it telling that in spite of Slytherin being dominated by pureblood families who would know exactly who he was none of them really came to welcome him or anything like in the other Houses. Not that he desired their company, but it was telling nonetheless. They never expected him to be here.

"Theodore Nott," said a rat-faced boy shaking his hand not really looking at him, "and this is Millicent Bulstrode," a pug faced girl who was taller than Harry himself grasped his hand clumsily. "Daphne says she met you on the train."

"I'm Tracey Davis," said the brunette girl sitting next to Daphne cheerfully, but she was cut in by another sour looking first year boy muttering, "-yeah we know who you are half blood. Half blood just like him, you half-blood lot had better stick together… you'll have much less leeway to make any mistakes you know."

"That's Zabini," the girl explained. "His mother's been married like a dozen times and she only had him." Zabini glowered and Harry rolled his eyes. Great, another gossip queen. Animated discussions were still breaking out at the far end of the table where the seventh and sixth years were seated but Harry couldn't hear anything regretfully.

Malfoy came strolling down a few seats as soon as the sorting was over and the feast had begun. Harry had managed to hide his amazement well enough as food appeared on all their plates, he had figured it was best not to show surprise over anything as he had evidently been sorted into the House of Traditionalists who were unwelcoming to outsiders. He swallowed the bite of turkey he was chewing then turned to face him. "Malfoy, pleasure to meet your acquaintance again."

"I offered my hand in friendship on the train Potter," Malfoy sneered. "I said I wouldn't offer it again but here we are." He eyed him up, his face bearing a significant degree of scrutiny.

Harry saw that the other first years were surreptitiously following the conversation whilst pretending to eat and chat merrily.

"Well Malfoy, you must know that I never rejected your friendship. I merely didn't want to limit by options before I had a better understanding of who is who. You must know I like to judge for myself who is worth befriending, and I don't like friends that try to tell me beforehand, before I've even met anyone else who I'm to be acquainted with."

Malfoy looked reasonably satisfied with his response. Looking around him at the other first years he said in an offhand fashion, "Us Slytherins have to stick together. Remember that." And he left.

Harry continued with the feast, but his stomach was slightly churning. Was he really in such a poor position from the very start?

Things did not get better as they were led by Professor Snape to their common room, which depressingly enough was located underground next to the potion dungeons. From the way he was constantly glowering at him, Harry could make out the head of house too, had some preconceived animosity against him because it certainly wasn't anything he had personally done, which was basically nothing. He tried to remain calm as he wondered just how on earth he was going to survive the first few days.

The common room was cozier than he'd expected for a dungeon. Glancing to one side Harry saw that they exactly under the Hogwarts lake they had just arrived over on the boats. Very cool indeed.

The strange, ambient green glow that emanated seemingly the windows, contrasted with the bright fire, casted a ghost-like mood over the whole place. The lamps up above were green too and Harry felt that it was a terrible place to do homework cause there simply wasn't enough light even with the candles, and the chairs were rigid-backed too.

As Snape made his final disparaging announcements about House Unity, the need for disputes to stay within the House, his grave expectations for them to excel or at the last avoid trouble, "Or Else," he emphasized with gravity, "you will be having a private chat with me in my office should any complaints over any individual's behaviour reach me. Good night to you all." And he swept out of the common room.

The first years filed up, yawning and full to the brim with food, but Harry couldn't help but see them as the dangerous little snakes they were… or would grow up to be.

Harry tried to follow but, and he had been expecting this, several burly seventh years held him back.

He waited patiently for what was to follow, a warning… an attempt at intimidation. Well they needn't even try. He was intimidated already.

"Well, Potter, my name is Flint," said the smallest of them which was hardly reassuring as he was still over a head taller.

"Rosier."

"Travers."

"Rowle"

"Jugson"

"Yaxley"

"Carrow" the only girl.

"Do you know how many of us have fathers and relatives in Azkaban because of you?"

Harry tried not to look confused as he hadn't heard of Azkaban and felt a dreadful pit in his stomach but felt compelled to answer.

"I was only a baby. I didn't know what happened. I didn't intend anything to happen."

"You should have died," the pock-marked girl named Carrow said.

"The Dark Lord is gone," Harry replied trying not to betray his intense anxiety. Indeed he was on the verge of shaking. "Besides I don't know what happened so don't ask me, but he's finished, he's not a factor. I'm sorry about what your parents," he tried to look sincere with a note of pleading in his eyes. Maybe that would cause them to leave him alone? It was the last card to play. "Mine perished too. But the war is over now, why do we all keep fighting over ghosts?"

They all sniggered a bit then Flint spoke again.

"Don't worry Harry," he said using his first name. "The younger and middle year students won't join in, in case you do make something of yourself. "But as for us we're all graduating this year or the next and we have nothing to fear from you, the boy who lived, and plenty of reason to make your life miserable." Flint reached for his wand. Harry didn't even bother reaching for his.

By the time the jinxes and curses had worn off, it was easily past midnight and he stumbled into bed aching from head to foot. They hadn't hurt him too badly, as badly as he had feared because they couldn't cross the line in case he went to Snape. But they would do it again and again for a long time, they promised. And if he did seek help, it would only become dramatically worse for him.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry almost missed breakfast as he overslept and could still remember what had transpired, the terrifying flashes of light and the stuff they made his body into, but that was what magic could apparently accomplish…

It was the first time he had been on the receiving end of a hostile wand, he thought to himself. Well the first time since… then. And this time nothing had saved him… no special power had intervened like it did on that night, like he was actually half-expecting something to occur…

But nothing. Well apparently he wasn't special at all.

Harry resolved to go to Snape and he would once classes ended that day. Not to see him dish out punishments, he couldn't risk that. Only to hear what advice he could give about the matter… And to find out why he apparently so disliked him from the very first. But at the same time Snape he thought couldn't treat him too badly because he was in his House which was after all his pride.

"Im screwed." he said unhappily plopping down at the breakfast table. "Well of course you're screwed." Zabini said idly. "What were you possibly thinking, getting yourself sorted into Slytherin?"

For the rest of the school Harry had realized by now that the saviour status that was permanently attached to his name was now going to be an encumbrance and could very easily turn into fear and hatred for his person because he had not "lived up" to their expectations. He also realized that the entire school had a very simple "dark" label to plaster over Slytherin house and he resolved to try his best to change that misconception. Or at the very least he would prove it to be a misconception.

His house mates on the other hand…

Would not be of much help, Harry reflected honestly to himself. His first impression of Slytherins on the train was that they were not the smartest, although they were quite pretentious about being cunning, always a dangerous combination. Witness the stupidity of the attacks. What if Harry grew to be a wizard of awesome power as he was so determined now to become? But graduation wouldn't save them, Harry would make sure of that. He was absolutely certain that once he had had several years of magical education plus a bit of extra training on the side he would wipe their floor. If they were of the same age…

Then they were a boastful lot, even more so than the Gryffindors, which meant that they were obviously blinded by privilege and rotting away with complacency and had little tact. To be fair not all were like so, but the loudest in his experience would tend to become the most influential, while the silent and more tactful would just be bullied along into compliance for they probably didn't care very much anyways. In any case, Slytherin house positively revelled in its reputation for being dark. That was stupid in and of itself because everyone else was obviously afraid of darkness which would only mean you couldn't get any cooperation or have anything done.

On the other hand the other students from the other houses, first years especially were eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and uncertainty. And while older students were happy to point his way in the right direction, they were always on a pointed hurry to leave. They were apparently scared of him. Oh the irony.

Harry grew to greatly enjoy the classes because they were the one place where he could demonstrably excel and show his worth, winning points for Slytherin House, as well as winning the respect of his fellow classmates. He was however careful not to emphasize what he could do at the expense of his fellow classmates and remained helpful and courteous. And besides it was only Charms and Transfiguration that he truly excelled. He had been the first to achieve every transfiguration so far and Charms he found to be a breeze. Defence against the Dark Arts was truly a joke and he learnt far more from reading his textbook than from Professor Binns. He also found Astronomy boring, Herbology was mildly interesting but Harry ultimately disliked working with plants when he could be practicing practical magic.

But potions was clearly the worst. As it was, Harry now realized that Snape really really disliked him. At first he could only guess that Snape hated him because he was a Dark Lord sympathizer as well. But now he realized it clearly had to be something deeper.

Harry had been among the last to enter the dungeon for his first ever potion class and as he sat down he could see the door swing wide open with a bang and he glanced over as Snape filed past, but not before he had shot a cold glare in his direction that left him feeling again, bewildered.

After Snape had begun his lecture on the dangers of potion brewing and his intentions to weed out the weak-minded and the useless "dunderheads" as he called them, the first year Slytherins had been whispering about it as if they were expected. He had then rounded on Harry and asked him three questions that he hadn't really known how to answer, well except the bezoar one that he remembered from the potions textbook.

Harry soon found out that he was at a decided disadvantage for this class, as it appeared to him all the students from pureblood families were already well acquainted with the tools for potion-making and had prior experience. So he sweated away under the heat of the cauldron until he managed to brew a respectable solution, casting quick glances at his neighbour Parkinson who ended up doing only slightly better with a more solid colour.

As the class filed away and as it was lunchtime, Harry approached Snape with some unease. He hadn't forgotten the way his scar had burned when he had first looked his way although he thought that had probably been just a coincidence.

"Professor, could I have a private word."

Snape rounded on him speaking harshly. "Potter, if it has anything to do with that abysmal performance that I was forced to grade…"

"I'm sorry about that professor and I promise to try and do better, but no it has to do with Slytherin House."

With a vicious expression, Snape gestured curtly for him to continue.

"Sir, the older students of Slytherin House have not exactly been welcoming towards me and they warned specifically against going to you or anyone else. However I am not asking for any action to be taken against them, merely for advice as to what I can do to placate those who are bent on taking their vengeance and frustration on me…" Harry spoke rapidly and looked down again.

Snape smiled again but it was completely without humour. "Perhaps then Potter, a little resourcefulness that is so famed in Slytherin house might serve you well, if indeed you consider yourself a worthy member of this House."

Harry couldn't believe it. If he hadn't misread Snape's expression, the git seemed to actually relish the fact that he was being bullied! And this was a professor and his Head of House. No, going to Dumbledore was not an option it would clearly only do further, probably permanent damage to his reputation. Harry was already well aware of how badly Slytherin house viewed the Headmaster overall, based on overhead conversations.

But the worst of all from all this; he couldn't even become friends with any of his classmates no matter what he did, not when everyone knew that Harry was being targeted nearly every night by the oldest boys in the House and so clearly nobody wished to risk their necks. Obviously no one would be willing to get too close to him.

That night after failing to avoid them, he challenged Flint and the rest over the rationale of attacking him repeatedly.

"Your family have had disputes with this house. Your father for one. Your great grandfather was a great muggle-lover too. We do not forget." Well at the very least he got to learn more about his dead family, and how their many enemies apparently perceived them to be. It was scant consolation as Harry was bound, blindfolded and then subjected to burns, cuts, rashes and boils breaking out over his skin, whilst his feet went into tap dance motion repeatedly all across the common room to great hilarity. Lastly he was suddenly overcome with nausea and only vomited seven times while a jet of cold water splashed all over his face. Then a flash of red as he fell senseless and he must have went to sleep because when he awoke hours had passed in the long night.


	10. Chapter 10

"Astonishing talent," tiny Professor Flitwick squeaked, "why I can't remember such a natural in the charms. Just like his mother was, even better I might say…"

"Although I am concerned he appears to have dark circles around his eyes as though he isn't getting enough sleep every night. Presumably young Harry has already begun to learn the delights of extracurricular wanderings around the castle. Just like his father." McGonagoll sniffed. "And yes he does have his father's talent for Transfiguration. Certainly."

Dumbledore beamed and gazed around the impromptu conference that they were having.

"H-he i-i-is very g-good."

"Not exactly enthusiastic about my subject, but then very few people are." Professor Sprout said rather stiffly.

"He is mediocre," Snape answered in a very bored tone suppressing a sneer. "And I completely fail to see a need to hold a special meeting regarding his apparent talents. Potter is like any ordinary, arrogant first year who believes himself special because he can make sparks fly when he waves a wand. And I believe you all to be so blinded by his preceding reputation to be able to judge him evenhandedly."

They all avoided his eyes at the moment before Dumbledore took the initiative and cleared his throat. "Severus may I speak to you in private for a moment."

As they withdrew, Dumbledore inquired about how young Harry was faring in Slytherin House.

"He is learning I suppose. Learning to adapt that is."

Two days later at breakfast, Harry received his first ever piece of Owl Post. Iolanthe (he had named his owl after the famed Peverell ancestor who had married into the Potters that he had read when researching his family genealogy) swooped down but instead of landing where he could proffer some bits of toast and stroke her feathers, she dropped a letter and flew off.

It read:

Dear Harry,

I know I haven't introduced meself properly. I am Hagrid, keeper of the keys and grounds here at Hogwarts and I was the one who led ye and the other first yrs to Hogwarts from the train. Your parents were good friends or mine from the time they were at Hogwarts and I have fond memories of them both. If you would like, we could have tea over at me hut on Friday. I know you have a free period after Potions. I want to hear all about your first two weeks at Hogwarts. And if you need anything or have anything ter ask, I hope I can be of help.

From Hagrid.

Harry blinked and then quickly stuffed the parchment into a pocket. Pulling out a fresh piece, he scrawled a quick acceptance thanking the giant, Hagrid, writing that he very much looked forward to it. And strange enough he did. Hagrid might have looked… a bit funny when he first saw him but anyone who was friends with his parents and was willing to offer to tell him about them was worth meeting. No one he knew had ever offered before.

Now in his every spare moment apart from lessons and homework, Harry was determinedly rifling through every defence book he could find. As Quirrel never seemed to teach them anything as usual, and given his current predicament it was very important indeed.

Harry had been uncertain as to whether it was a good idea from the start. After all, what hope did he have of magically being able to defend himself against several sixth, seventh years ganging up against him? It was clearly hopeless and he did not wish to provoke them still further. But he did realize that to do nothing would be to invite only further torment, and that since eventually he would be able to defend himself against their likes, it was best to get an early start.

Counter-spells, shields, defences, basic duelling techniques, jinxes, hexes, anything. And he practiced. And practiced. For hours and hours. Returning to his dormitory as late as he dared, barely any earlier than the curfew in a bid to avoid his tormentors. And he had dared to strike back with magic. As he predicted, the curses were now harsher and they drew blood.

And so he mastered spell after spell, defence after defence to try and avoid total humiliation when he had to return to the dormitory to sleep and was immediately magically assaulted by several sixth and seventh years. He was quite certain he might be able to hold his own with any one of them in a fairly short period of time, for at least long enough to scare them off. But with three or four… well it was over quite quickly no matter what he did. Well at least they didn't descend to much physical violence at all as apparently they claimed it was beneath purebloods.

He had soon discovered from his research that he was being regularly subjected to the leg locking jinx, petrificus totalus of course, the stunner, the freezing charm, the tickling charm, the silencer, the disarming jinx, the bat bogey hex, incarcerous but much of what they used was apparently located in the Restricted Section so he couldn't even look up the counter spell. And he had no one to turn to, no one from outside the House because that would only further damage his reputation. Not Snape who for whatever reason was determined to turn a blind eye. The prefects were the attackers. But as Flint had predicted though none of the fourth or even fifth years or anyone younger bothered him.

What caught him off guard most of the time was the fact that many of his attackers could cast away without an incantation. Which made identifying and then countering the spell afterwards much more difficult of course.

And the one time he had managed to curse one of them back he had been rewarded with a truly savage one to the gut that made him squirm for days afterwards. He couldn't eat much without throwing up and indigestion.

One day at the library, he was working alone when he suddenly bumped into Hermione Granger who was carrying a large stack. As they toppled to the floor, Harry immediately apologized and began to help retrieve the books.

They hadn't spoken since on the train

"So how have classes been?" Harry asked brightly trying to smile, "I often wonder about what the other Houses' common rooms look like."

"Well Gryffindor is located…" but she stopped and was eyeing his serpent patch nervously.

Harry snorted. "Honestly, whatever they've been telling you in Gryffindor, not everyone in Slytherin is bad surely you can understand that. Just like there are probably plenty of bad people in Gryffindor too, and plenty in Slytherin house as well."

Her lower lip started to quiver slightly.

"Are you being bullied?" Harry asked solemnly, "I'll let you on a secret. I am." And feeling such a burden of stress these past weeks, he just confessed, it felt good to unload. And besides since she was apparently a fellow outcast there was little danger in telling her.

"Potter, you have to go to a professor. Forget your pride and so-called political ramifications. It doesn't matter, you have to think in the now. You are being hurt now." Her eyes were concerned but she also looked very alarmed.

"Well I feel I can handle it. I'm close to handling it. Besides I have a plan. That's why I spend so many hours here. Anyway, I often see you around here as well. What are you reading?"

She showed him the book on magical theory and Harry had to marvel at her intellectual precocity, it was definitely not something he could see himself reading for years yet.

"But anyway you're so smart," he noticed she had reddened slightly, "I'm sure Gryffindor House has won plenty of points because of you and there are plenty of first years I imagine who will need your help and would want to stay in your good graces." He gave her a grin. "I dunno, I should think you'd be quite popular."

"I guess they don't like me being a show-off. I understand. But it's not something I can help either. I… I don't do it to make other people look bad or to raise myself over them or anything. Not really. It's just… like a habit."

"You know you're smart. And anyone who's remotely smart can tell the same. I think that that should be enough, you don't exactly need to tell the world. If they fail to acknowledge it, their loss I say. You don't need to prove anything is what I tell myself, except only to yourself. And I feel you're so much smarter than me."

"Only at some things," she replied carefully. "I think you give good advice… you're good at reading people. Maybe." She grinned at him.

"Well at the very least you're being bullied for something you're doing that others find irritating, fair or not you can choose whether to change course. Me, I'm being victimized for something in the past I had zero control over. Because my reputation precedes me for better or for worse. And Slytherins can't look for help outside our House without looking really bad, but also I can't help you for example. What would your fellow Gryffindors say? Face it, we're essentially powerless to help each other when our Houses are in such animosity. Really if we were even seen together it could get worse for us."

Well I have one friend, she admitted. "Neville. Well I think that's only because he has to depend on me for his studies. He lacks confidence though, you see?"

"Anyway I need to find an empty classroom now to practice these spells." He showed her.

She gave a nod and a little smile and went back to her book. Harry thought it was cute and he left shaking his head slightly. She had quite large frontal teeth, but somehow he felt that they suited her.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry knocked three times on the giant oak doors of what was apparently Hagrid's hut and had to admire the giant's resourcefulness in being able to build himself such an abode, humble as it was. It had taken him very little time to find once he had asked a couple of friendly Hufflepuffs.

Hagrid opened the door, towering next to it, spotting him. He beamed and ushered him inside. It was one-roomed and various chickens and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling while a warm fire roared in the fireplace. Harry noticed the over-large crossbow positioned against the wall. Hagrid reached for a copper kettle and pour them both two cups of tea and motioned for him to sit down.

"Hello Hagrid," Harry said trying to sound reassured. "Um, thanks for the invite. I always wanted to meet some of my parent's friends at school, cause I've never really talked about them much to anybody. My aunt and uncle were never particularly interested…"

Hagrid surveyed him from above his cup and broke into a rueful smile. "I must admit when I saw where yeh was sorted, I was a bit nervous meself. But I don't blame yeh for which House you ended up. And you seem to be like any other first year, exactly how I imagined."

He seems to be in contemplation. "Yeh have your mother's eyes you know… But yeh look like your father in every other way."

"What were they like?" Harry interrupted, he couldn't help himself. "I mean I did do some research about the Potter family, but what was my father actually like… And my mother?" "Bunch o' troublemakers, yer father and his friends," Hagrid chuckled. "And I mean that in a good way… The forerunners ter the Weasley Twins, you can think them as. But yer father was good-natured… He devoted himself ter fighting You-Know-Who after leaving school. He was a very talented wizard."

"And my mother?" "Well Lily was in many ways his opposite for many years, studious and responsible. But she was an extremely caring person who always was looking to help others. So your parents sort of didn't get along at first, if I can remember. She was a prefect and later Head Girl. Regularly top of the year too."

"Oh yeah, yer father was an excellent flier, Quidditch captain. And by the time he was in his final year, Professor McGonagoll made him Head Boy."

Harry swelled with pride as he listened intently to his parent's achievements, parents he would never know but that he knew he could always feel pride, and through that pride a sense of his belonging with them as he came to hear their stories. His eyes grew a little misty.

Wanting to distract himself for the moment, he spotted an old Daily Prophet lying by the table and took in its cover.

"Hagrid, Gringotts was robbed?" he asked changing the subject.

The paper said it had happened on his birthday, two days after his own trips to Diagon Alley.

"Oh yeah, I was there meself on a special assignment for Professor Dumbledore."

"Wait, it was robbed because you were there?"

"I never said that," Hagrid said quickly but his eyes were looking at anywhere but Harry's.

"But Hagrid, why would anyone take the risk of robbing Gringotts? It's supposed to be the most heavily guarded place in Britain next to Azkaban. It must have been something really valuable."

"Course could be mad." Harry just stared and continued to listen. "But hear, forget about the break-in fer a moment. It has nothing to do with you or any of the students. Dumbledore-"

"So it does have something to do with Professor Dumbledore?"

"I never said that!" Hagrid said exasperated. "It has nothing really to do with 'im either. An… old friend of his was askin' for a favour tha's all. Anyways…"

Harry spent the remainder of his visit asking Hagrid what he knew about Professor Snape personally and why he appeared to have a personal animosity against Harry despite his being in his House.

"Well, I really shouldn't be the one to tell you this," Hagrid said shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "But I guess yeh should know, being in Slytherin and everything. You have to see him on a regular basis I suppose."

"He and yer father didn't exactly get along." Hagrid said simply and refused to give further details no matter how Harry cajoled him. "Go speak with Professor Snape yerself if you have all these questions. It was between him and your father."

Harry just stared at him like he was crazy.

As he returned to bed thoroughly battered, bruised, and drained magically, he swore as they had transfigured his feet into stumps and he had had to drag himself up the stairs and wait patiently for them to change back. He would need to read more complex transfigurations next. But they'd probably be in the restricted sections unfortunately.

Maybe this wasn't working out at all. The tougher he got to beat, the darker and more painful the curses that were being used. But already a few were backing off, like they didn't want to offend a first year who apparently could use such advanced magic. The first time he had displayed a fully-fledged shield charm, two of the boys had backed off. But eventually it would reach a stage where it was taking too long to subdue him, and if a teacher walked past…

He never remembered too much from the attacks, they passed like a blur and for that he was thankful. After all they could have been much more traumatizing. But already Harry was having a set of ambitions formed, an ambition to remake Slytherin house into something better, and to take charge of it. Maybe that was why he could take what was coming for him now. Politeness, courtesy was the key to gaining cooperation and to forego it for mindless thuggishness was just plain idiocy. No Slytherin House had to change and he would be the one to lead it to greatness.

But it would not be for many more years still.


	12. Chapter 12

A red flash leapt out of the shadows, twisting Harry managed to raise a shield and countered. "IMPEDIMENTA" he roared in the approximate direction. Ducking another jinx he spotted a hand in the darkness and tried a disarming charm but it was blocked. Pivoting again he heard an INCARCEROUS from the corner and flicking his wand with a "DIFFINDO" he sliced the incoming ropes into two. Gasping and sweating heavily from exertion, Harry turned and turned again waiting for more, always on the alert. But the common room had fallen silent. Harry ran the last few steps up to his dormitory. And so Harry had successfully overcome the most immediate threats to his person posed by the Slytherin upper year students. He could now employ any manner of medium jinxes, hexes, curses. He could perform a shield charm that could withstand up to three stunners before shattering. The attacks were becoming far more infrequent and the attackers far more hesitant. Often they would try and catch him by surprise but failing that retreat immediately. Harry counted that as a victory, and the constant need for awareness kept his duelling reflexes and senses sharp in training.

As a result of this his own direct position in Slytherin, he felt, had just gotten a very noticeable uplift. Harry had been surprised when Draco Malfoy challenged him to a game of wizarding chess the other day (he lost), or when Zabini and Nott taught him Exploding Snap. Previously the only first year he was on regular speaking terms with was Tracey Davis. But that was only because being a clear half blood with a non-wizarding surname, she had few other people to talk to. Pansy constantly pestered him for help in Transfiguration. Daphne, he got along relatively well with and they usually worked together in Herbology. And consistently earning points in Charms and Transfiguration for Slytherin house made him respected among his peers.

Academically in Slytherin House, (Harry had been keeping close track) Nott was by far the best in all subjects except Charms and Transfiguration where Harry himself clearly excelled above the rest. Daphne was second to Nott, but terrible at Potions. Zabini and Malfoy were probably behind those two, but besides Charms and Transfiguration roughly on par with Harry in the remaining subjects. Bulstrode was a very average student just like Davis. Parkinson was clearly worse than them at everything, while those two lumbering bodyguards Harry had thought to be mentally inbred did regularly manage to pass their assignments funnily enough. Appearances could be deceiving.

Among first years though it was Draco Malfoy who had emerged as a sort of unofficial, natural leader thanks to the clout of his family, his wealth, and his connections with the upper years. Malfoy Harry thought, certainly knew the extent of the attacks against him and had not said a word to the upper years to help him and had even joined in their taunts a few times. The rest of the first years, Harry observed simply looked to Malfoy for leadership. As he himself had no means to challenge him, he was forced into a compliance as well.

But Harry was also looking forward to his first Flying Lesson knowing that his father had been a great flier and a great player and Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor House. Surprisingly, it had only been recently that he discovered that both his parents were placed in Gryffindor. He had known obviously that they wouldn't have been placed in Slytherin but accidentally stumbling into the trophy room while investigating Hogwarts' moving staircase had displayed his parent's names. But given the animosity between himself and large sections of his House (matching the rivalry between that of Gryffindor and Slytherin), he really should have inferred.

It was a bright early morning as all of Slytherin and Gryffindor first years filed out into a great courtyard where two lines of brooms lay on the bed of grass. Madame Hooch strolled commandingly as they all stood next to one and with her direction they all shouted.

"UP!" Harry's broom jumped into his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He admired the texture of the wood in his feel. It was worn but looked worth the years it had endured of students.

His schoolmates weren't so lucky although he wasn't trying to look. Malfoy had his in hand, and after a few tries so did Goyle and Crabbe. The rest still struggled a minute later. Casting an eye over the other side, Gryffindor House was having just about as much trouble. It appeared that those who had experience flying found it obviously easier. But Harry had none himself.

When they had all eventually managed it, they mounted as per instruction. Harry was already relishing the kick-off from the ground. He could feel the broom between his fingers hum with energy and controlled vibration. Before he could begin though, before any whistle blew a great shout.

Neville had already kicked off from the ground, but his broom was trembling so violently and shaking in so many different directions that it pulled him this way and that with him barely being able to hold on. Both Gryffindors and Slytherins, to Harry's disgust were already snickering away.

Then Neville slipped off from about ten feet.

With almost unearthly reflexes Harry whipped out his wand and shouted, "Spongify!"

Neville collapsed into a heap on the ground but bounced slightly. Harry's charm hadn't been quite powerful enough to make it a comfortable fall, but he was only bruised.

Lavender Brown began to clap but stopped awkwardly when no one in the House joined in.

"Excellent job, Mr. Potter," Madame Hooch said rounding on him slightly astonished. Her own wand too was out but she hadn't been quick enough. "Twenty points to Slytherin. Now boy. Mr. Longbottom are you hurt?"

Neville shook his head shyly but still seemed uncertain as to what happened. He stared at the ground in a daze as it began to harden up again and got slowly to his feet dusting off.

"Now let's try again."

Harry kicked off at the whistle and felt a roar of wind at his ears and he was flying. The sensation set off every nerve and feeling and emotion that Harry never knew he'd had, a mixture of joy, passionate love, and indescribable delight and fulfillment. The world had suddenly felt meaningful again.

He loved it a lot. So much so that he forgot about the rest and simply soared higher and higher. "Mr. Potter!" he heard Madame Hooch shout from below on her broom. Whirling around, he turned three sixty degrees quickly to face her.

"Come back down!"

Harry obeyed but not before he saw out of the corner of his eye Malfoy soaring higher in an attempt to match his feat. Rolling his eyes, he contented himself with sharp turns and twists feeling out the broom to its limits and delighting in the adrenaline of his deliberately induced jerking motions.

Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville topple over again. Going into a steep dive, but no he was too late. He pulled away, wand drawn in hand as Neville was on the grass writhing.

"Mr. Longbottom!" He heard a chorus of cries of "Neville!" and some more snickering that was just making his stomach sick.

"Everyone back down this instant!"

They all obeyed, as best they could but no one else fell. Harry touched down first, and felt the odd feeling of ground beneath his feet. He did not particularly like it, already missing the sensation of pure flight.

Ron Weasley was looking at him in awe. Harry who had just seen how he had mocked Hermione's clumsy attempt on a broom causing others in Gryffindor house to laugh at her, turned away coldly.

"None of you are to move while I get this poor boy to the Hospital Wing. Should any one of you mount those brooms while I'm gone you'll be out of Hogwarts faster than a Nimbus. Now come on dear."

No sooner was she out of earshot did Malfoy break out into cacophonies of laughter.

"Did you see his face?" he jeered. "That great lump pathetic excuse for a wizard." Malfoy caught his eye and he forced himself into a smile. Malfoy was too powerful to take on, he wasn't ready yet. His father a Governor of the school, his wealth and connections. Especially Malfoy's connections with the upper years who already treated him as a privileged peer. The same upper years that were still attacking him once every while.

Harry just looked on with dismay. Malfoy could be charming to get along with often, but these displays were just sickening.

Ron's bullying of Hermione in an attempt to gain power in Gryffindor House was similar to Draco, he equivocated. Only he was stupid enough to do it to one of his own House mates. Harry wanted dearly to do something to make him look foolish, but in the end he decided he couldn't risk it as she's a Mudblood…

Muggleborn he corrected himself. Man he was being polluted by Slytherin House, casual slurs were intruding his thought process just because everyone was saying it.

Draco finished his tirade. "Just goes to show Gryffindor House produces plenty of people like him."

Ron's face, growing steadily redder intervened. "Shut up Malfoy." Harry knew the great difficulty he must be having in trying to defend Longbottom when he too had made jokes at his expense, especially when he was with Hermione. But when it was his House that was under attack…

"Weasley, I do wonder how is it your family manages to survive. In that Great Barn that you all live…"

Ron restrained himself physically attacking Malfoy, while Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were holding him back. Laughing to himself, Malfoy crouched on the spot where Neville fell and picked up the Remembrall that Neville's grandmother had famously sent him. It had fallen out of Neville's pocket.

"I think I'll keep this for myself. Not that I need it, but it'll be so entertaining to watch Longbottom struggle to remember anything."

Hermione then gazed fiercely at him imploringly, but he looked down to avoid her gaze and felt himself redden. A moment later he glanced back at her again surreptitiously and saw disappointment etched in her features.

The pit in his stomach then felt awful. But of course he couldn't start a public feud in Slytherin House over Neville Longbottom and so he resolved to deal with the issue later privately. After all Longbottom was a respected name, and if Malfoy was thinking about scoring points over political rivals early on, Harry could remind him that having Longbottom as a friend, even a clueless one in the long run could prove even more advantageous.

Or he would just steal the stupid Remembrall back later. Yes, he'd probably be doing that.

After the lesson, a chance perusal of Daily Prophet editions for the past twenty years proved him wrong. Apparently among the other events of the wizarding war (which included the death of his parents), Bellatrix Lestrange had been sentenced to Azkaban for the crime of torturing Neville's parents into insanity. And she was Draco's godmother. Any respect he had for the Malfoys was quickly evaporating as he delved more and more into recent history and learned how the various former Death Eaters avoided Azkaban by claiming to be under the imperius curse. And then the donations made by Lucius into various "good causes." How could he fight back against this sort of thing whilst in Slytherin House, without first losing all respect from Slytherin House?


	13. Chapter 13

Prior to coming to Hogwarts, Hermione had been extremely excited for the fresh start that she was going to have. Somehow or other she had thought that magic alone would make all the difference and that things weren't going to be quite the same as in primary school where she had been alone, friendless with no one to talk to. The older, more mature students had never made serious time for her, they might have felt embarrassed to be seen spending time with a much younger student, a girl much less. Her classmates she never felt any particular enthusiasm for joining in their antics. Her best friends had been her parents.

But she had discounted human nature, she soon realized. Things were the same, academic learning in the sciences and the arts replaced with academic learning about magic, magical disciplines. But magical people and the non-magical people were just alike, she felt keenly the irony the prejudice of the former for the latter who did not even know that they existed. But if they did, Hermione felt that they might just return that prejudice.

Her own experience in entering the magical world, in realizing she was a witch born to "muggles", and the value judgements that accompanied her muggleborn status, fuelled inside of her a strong sense of resentment. That she naturally kept suppressed for now. She felt it keenly from the Slytherins however. And so that had motivated her perusal of the accomplishments of past muggleborn witches and wizards. She had registered that there was a significant and historically influential undercurrent of prejudice against them. It was not exactly a cultural clash although muggleborns invariably brought new influences and perceptions into the wizarding world (such influences were often instrumental in many magical innovations anywhere from charms to potions which was why a disproportionate number of magical inventors were muggleborn), but a fundamental clash over the "purity" of magical blood, and the right to learn and perform magic itself. In naked terms then, it was a desperate guarding of privilege from the unworthy upstarts.

Though insecure at first, Hermione was now firmly convinced that blood purity was a useless and incoherent concept given that she almost always outperformed those of "purer blood" and because she thought magic was reducible to genes. And with genes, you either had it or you didn't. Blood didn't factor. And she had been nervous, desperately convinced for weeks at first that she was naturally inferior. Then the relief upon coming here and seeing with her own eyes that she was better than (almost) everyone else was quite palpable.

But even so, Hogwarts thus far had been no joy for Hermione. The only solace had been the magic and theory involved, which she found extremely novel and interesting. But unlike her old school, she never even got to see her parents in the evenings who worked long hours but who always made time to chat with her everyday about a myriad of topics. Here she was alone and there was only silence and the occasional sneers at her obvious brilliance. So she had buried herself in the learning, feeling at a loss to do anything else comforting. But that of course only worsened the perceptions of her as a arrogant bookwork, she knew. But what was she to do? A person had to have some solace.

Unexpectedly though, Hermione found that she was actually not on the top of every class. One afternoon after Transfiguration she had pestered Professor McGonagoll with questions about how well she was doing relative to the rest of her year.

Professor McGonagoll had fixed her with a stern, suppressed smile, and then with a look of slight exasperation and apology she had said that there was a student "currently doing better than her." But that the two of them were well ahead of the rest of their peers.

Curious, she had prodded for the name but Professor McGonagoll had denied her, suggesting sternly that she find out the identity of this student on her own as she was not in a position to divulge the private grades of her students.

In Charms, it had been just the same. Hermione had thought for quite a while who this person could have been. Not anyone from Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff for Transfiguration as they had lessons with them, or Ravenclaw for Charms. Could it be a single person for both subjects? She felt the old competitive flare inside of her driving her to find out more. She simply couldn't let it rest. Then, very abruptly it hit her.

It had to be Potter and from Slytherin House too. They sometimes did encounter each other in the Library and Hermione didn't quite understand his obsession with spells. Spells spells. All manner of jinxes, hexes, very inappropriate too, most of which weren't even in their syllabus. Or the syllabus of the next year. Or the year after that. She had checked.

Then seeing his increasingly battered state, with bruises, sometimes cuts, she made the connection.

Hermione didn't quite understand Harry's insistence in defending his House when it was obviously so full of prejudices and rotten to the core that it would treat one of its own members so. What was so worthwhile about Slytherin House? The current Slytherin House she meant. It certainly seemed like the Sorting Hat had saw fit to sort the most abominable individuals of the year into a single House. For the benefit of the other three Houses surely, she thought wryly.

The idea of it, she supposed was what mattered. If the idea of Slytherin House was still so influential in the minds of witches and wizards, then by using this concept and turning it, it could be a powerful agent or vehicle for change.

But Harry was one of the ones who was fairly tolerable to engage in conversation with, she had to admit. In their brief exchanges in the library, she saw uncharacteristic intelligence and perspicacity. Characteristic of the nature of his House she supposed.

In Gryffindor House, Hermione had no one but she usually wasn't so bothered about it. As Harry said, it wasn't the fault of her House mates if they didn't understand her interests and preoccupations, and what she found valuable and didn't. And if attempts to persuade them didn't work, well it was their loss. Hermione simply did not find Exploding Snap or gossip to be really worth her time, what she really wanted was someone who could discuss books and important, meaningful subjects with her but all the girls in her dorm found her boring and incessant that way. So she gave it up, just like she had in primary school.

She was most dismayed to see that most first year Gryffindors had apparently rallied around Ronald Weasley since he had been the one to show the most initiative against Draco Malfoy. Both she realized were trying to increase their standing within their Houses in that way and both were equally idiots, she felt. It was unfortunate, because if Hermione were to choose a fellow first year Gryffindor she would have picked Dean Thomas. At least he seemed the most responsible among them, after her of course. But that wasn't saying much.

Every morning she was always the first at the table eying the timetable with a much practiced glance. She remembered all the times impeccably, she just felt it was responsible to confirm each time though.

Hermione was enjoying a hearty breakfast of marmalade on toast, a rasher of bacon, and an egg omelette as her house mates were beginning to arrive, when suddenly a beautiful, snowy owl that she had never seen before swooped down towards her dropping a weighted parcel on its way with a thud. She ripped it open and found the letter.

Hi Hermione.

Enclosed is the remembrall Malfoy stole from Neville. I would have sent it to him directly but as it happens I trust your discretion more. Do NOT tell anyone of my role in all this. I know it's not in my place to excuse Draco Malfoy but I do wish to apologize on behalf of my House.

Harry Potter

PS This piece of parchment will incinerate a minute after you open it. Just a useful charm I found. I take it you're a fast reader?

She dropped it hurriedly and snorted. Attention-seeking Potter. She had noticed he wasn't doing so well in Potions or many of his other subjects. The letter then burst into flame catching the attention of everybody.

"Blimey," Ronald Weasley said from across the table. "What did Miss Perfect do to get herself sent a howler?"


	14. Chapter 14

"HALLOWEEN" Malfoy shrieked waving his hands high in the air like a conductor. Nott rolled his eyes, while Zabini flopped on his bed like marionette. Crabbe and Goyle grinned too and cracked their knuckles.

"Come on Potter," Draco urged. "We gotta use some of your spells to prank the girls today. C'mon let's go they're not awake yet I bet."

Harry for one had been astonished to find that Halloween in the wizarding world was traditionally celebrated by pranking, at least among pureblood families. The only time of the year that this sort of thing was considered acceptable, encouraged even. But he duly followed. Pulling out his wand he cast on the doorway a few colour changing charms that he had just learnt the other day.

Dolores Runcorn, a fellow first year had stepped out first and instantly shrieked as her hair was turned purple and then flashed into an old grey. Zabini and Malfoy both guffawed and went rushing back, Harry hot on their heels. Further shrieks of outrage came behind.

"Good one, Potter," Draco exclaimed clapping him on the back. "Now let's think… Could you…"

Harry of course wasn't feeling especially up for this as it was the anniversary reminder of his parent's deaths at the hands of the Dark Lord. But shrugging, he obliged. By the time it was over, all the girls had their clothes changed into a ghastly off-coloured shade. Multiple times, each time they had presumably changed back inside and tried again to look presentable upon leaving. Their school robes, bags, they were ruined one by one at the door.

Harry never claimed to have fully mastered the charm without the mishaps. After the girls, Daphne, Tracey, Pansy, Millicent, and Dolores had left to find Professor Snape, the Slytherin boys emerged in triumph from the hiding at the door of their dormitory about twenty steps further down where they had been feigning sleep. Or actually asleep in the case of Goyle and Crabbe.

Harry, who was also far-sighted felt that he was simply doing the utmost to ruin his reputation among the girls, for none of them had found it even remotely funny.

"That just, uh might have repercussions for my future," Harry said looking askance at Malfoy. "I think you owe me one now."

"Nonsense," said Malfoy looking delighted. "They'll simply blame it on the upper years. After all, none of us are supposed to know how to do anything like this. We can prank them at will and they'll never suspect us. It's perfect!"

Harry was of the opinion that Malfoy severely underestimated the wits of the fairer sex and soon enough the boys were chased by a flock of hummingbirds cast by several seventh year girls as they raced screaming out of the dormitory. Harry was only relieved to get out now, before the entire House invariably descended into anarchy for the day as Draco assured him that it would.

After lessons that day, where even SNAPE, yes Snape turned a blind eye to pranks in his classroom (except those concerning potion ingredients of course), Harry was quite fascinated at the hullabaloo that was being generated for the occasion instead of the normally quiet and reserved manner that Slytherin house members usually interacted with each other.

By the time they were descending to the Great Hall for the feast he was feeling in good spirits. Good enough surprisingly to even drive off the twinges of grief that threatened to overwhelm him at periodic times of the day. Whole life feelings that he had never met his parents and would never do so, all because of this day, reduced to today. Compressed in its intensity. He never usually thought like this. But today was a reminder that for his whole life, Harry Potter was an orphan.

Suddenly, Hermione came into sight at the turn of the corridor, head bowed, walking furiously. Harry was startled to see her face rumpled up and streaked with tears… Looking sideways, apparently they had seen it too. Hermione walked past them, turned a corner and he heard a door slamming. "Did you look at her weeping like a faucet," Draco sneered, "Mudblood Granger has finally realized that she's got no friends." He mimed her infamous eagerness in raising her hand and the rest of them guffawed.

Harry laughed uncomfortably as well, awkwardly, in a half-pretended manner as they continued to stroll down to the feast. Harry had considered spending more time with Hermione whom he genuinely felt interested in knowing better, but he knew it was extremely unwise to be seen hanging around a muggle-born in front of his fellow Slytherins. He then reflected in his mind on what he had seen and found himself feeling quite upset about it too.

As he deliberated silent whether or not to follow or tell anyone about her, he decided to just give her space for the time being. Whatever was the matter, he could always talk to her later.

The Great Hall was magnificent and a hundred live bats flew overhead chased by an owl or two. Harry dug in with enthusiasm while he listened to various Slytherins detailing their pranking prowess and details. It made for quite an interesting hearing, the creative purposes that magic could be used for.

Harry glanced surreptitiously at the Gryffindor table, at the end where the first years usually sat but he couldn't find Hermione.

The doors of the Great Hall suddenly burst open with a harsh bang. Professor Quirrel came through sprinting at full speed just as Harry clapped his hand to his forehead. For some reason or another, his scar always seemed to hurt in Quirrel's presence.

"T-t-troll. I-In the dungeons. T-thought you w-wanted to k-know." And he fainted dead at the feet of the high table.

There was instant pandemonium.

"Prefects! Lead your houses back to their common rooms," came the booming shout from Professor Dumbledore. Harry looked around at the commotion as many of the younger students seemed to be in a state of panic. Harry wasn't sure he understood. Sure, trolls sounded fearsome but he was pretty sure that given the uses of magic a skilled teacher could make short work of one. He also didn't understand why Professor Quirrel, supposedly teaching DADA could be so faint-hearted. Hadn't he had any experience dealing with this sort of thing before? Looking at the still prone figure of Professor Quirrel he suffered another shot of pain in his scar and rubbed it irritatingly.

Then he remembered about Hermione. He looked back at the High table, but all the professors were already filing out ready to proceed to the dungeons presumably as Quirrel had told them. Harry tried to shout, wave his hand, but in the thick crowds of students and the chaos they couldn't see or hear him.

Then they were gone. Harry made his decision and backed out of the Slytherin crowds. He had to find her because there was just the risk, that unacceptable risk…

Out of the Great Hall now Harry retraced his steps hurriedly. Amidst the confusion and masses of students he had been able to make his escape quite unnoticed. And now he was turning round that corridor again on the third floor…

He heard it. Stomps even from far away, it could only be…

Impossible. Wasn't the troll in the dungeons. But it couldn't have just walked up here without anyone noticing. He was after all a considerable distance away from the Dungeons.

He wondered where the Prefects were taking Slytherin House since they obviously couldn't go back to their common room.

Harry tiptoed very cautiously towards the source of the noise. He heard a smashing sound, of what sounded like a door being thrown nearly off its hinges. And then a terrifying scream.

Harry against all his instincts which were telling him to stay way, stay far far away threw himself towards the damaged door that was a female lavatory?

And saw the troll, standing twelve feet high, reeking of foul odours, with great rough grey skin, dirty breeches, a small round head, wielding an enormous club. In the background he could hear whimpering from the stalls.

Then it brought it down on the stalls.

"EXPELLIARMUS" Harry shouted and was forced to duck as the heavy club flew his way. A few splinters of wood and shards of glass cut into him as the heavy club crashed into the mirrors behind…

"STUPEFY! IMPEDIMENTA! INCARCEROUS! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS! REDUCTO!"

Nothing seemed to work, the spells largely bounced off the troll's hide that it barely noticed while his last spell forced it slightly backwards. But the troll still seemed to be largely occupied in staring at his hand, trying to figure out apparently where his club had gone?

To hell with it, Harry thought. "Hermione! You have to get out of here! C'mon its distracted at the moment! We have to go!" He gestured frantically at the stalls as Hermione let out another terrified whimper and was apparently paralyzed.

Not caring about the niceties of the thing, Harry shouted "Alohomora" and the bathroom stall door was flung open to reveal a dishevelled and terrified Hermione Granger covered in dust and cowering.

The troll started to head for him again taking two steps forward. Then it drew back a fist.

Harry banished the glass and splinters around him straight at the troll which howled in pain as some of the glass had penetrated its thick skin and flickers of light green, what could only be blood spilled to the floor. By now Hermione had crawled out and pointing her wand, murmured somewhat shakily, "Immobulus." The troll's motions slowed noticeably but the effect soon wore off and it was angrier than ever. It kicked its gigantic feet and Harry and Hermione ducked for cover under the sinks just in time as floor tiles came out.

Harry cast a blinding hex which proved effective as the troll turned and turned 360 degrees in frustration kicking out randomly unable to locate any target. It punched a few stalls sending a shower of wood that Harry blocked with a shield charm.

"Aim for its head," Hermione encouraged still trembling. He sent another Reducto curse but as its head was high and a small target, not to mention the troll was moving blind quite unpredictably, he missed.

Harry had an idea. With another Reducto he smashed up several sinks ahead of them and a flood of water cascaded onto the bathroom floor. Soon, with the floor flooded…

"Glisseo"

Harry watched in satisfaction as the troll slipped and fell crashing to the floor. Pouncing on the opportunity, Harry jumped out of their hiding spot and brandished his wand.

"REDUCTO!"

The troll's head exploded smattering the bathroom walls and floors around with a mixture of green blood and brain… Hermione turned away in disgust as both she and Harry were splattered with it. Harry quickly scourgified them both.

Hermione was in shock. But Harry dragged her out and they quickly left the mess behind. Harry didn't stop until they were a floor down and he dragged her into an empty classroom while he gave her time to recover. With the effects of adrenaline fading now he too could appreciate how drained magically he was.

"Are you okay," he asked concerned still panting.

"Fine," she replied shakily not looking at him.

Guessing her mood, Harry took the intuitive and tried to sound calm. "I don't care what you were doing in the bathroom, I mean I can guess, and I do care, but it's nothing to be ashamed of. None of this was your fault as you couldn't have known."

"It's just… it all seemed so… natural to you."

Harry blinked

"You just blew up that Troll's head," Hermione said shakily looking somewhat disconcerted. Finally she looked him direct in the eyes with an almost accusatory look. "You killed it."

Harry was nonplussed and struggled to answer. "To be honest I wasn't intending anything. I just… reacted on instinct on the first thing I had in my mind. What was most effective, I didn't think… it would have that sort of effect."

"I was just trying to save all our lives," he finished lamely.

"I'm not blaming you", Hermione said quickly. And she looked down, as if uncertain she had anything more to add. "And thank you for coming. To my rescue that is."

"Well, I had no idea you needed rescuing. Professor Quirrel said the troll was in the dungeons."

"Thank you for coming to find me then," Hermione finally said. "It means a lot to me."

Harry felt like he wanted to say more, express more concern? But he couldn't muster the words out. In truth, he was still in shock. After the adrenaline had left his system he was suddenly aware of a profound shakiness, weakness and tiredness and he slumped into a chair.

"I told Neville and the rest of Gryffindor House too that Professor Snape forced Malfoy to give back the remembrall" Hermione said suddenly.

"Good then", Harry answered back awkwardly not really looking at her clutching his arm and examining the cuts. Even though he was loathed to let Snape take credit for any goodwill that he couldn't possibly have in the first place.

"You need to see Madame Pomfrey, Harry," Hermione said regaining a bit of her authoritative voice.

"I'll be fine. But I think we should both head back to our common rooms before everyone realizes we're gone."

They stood. And then Hermione left first without another word. Harry stumbled his way back, out on the alert for any professors, but he knew it was hopeless. If they caught him in this state, he couldn't exactly hide…

He couldn't even see the school nurse because then obviously it could implicate him. Besides the cuts weren't deep. Harry resolved he would look for healing charms next. Even if they were deep in the Restricted Section he would find them.

He entered the dungeons and five minutes later stood at the grey wall entrance. "Basilisk." he said duly.

Nobody was inside. Apparently everyone was still thinking the troll was in the dungeons. Well that suited him. He ventured quickly into the lavatory and washed himself quickly and thoroughly. The bleeding had stopped at the very least. But he couldn't shake off that disconcerting feeling. Why had Professor Quirrel lied about the troll to get all the professors out of the way?

Had he planned the attack? Harry did not consider Professor Quirrel's fainting performance to be entirely credible.

He heard students from the outside filing out. Sighing he quickly dressed and was prepared to slip back into his dormitory.

"Potter where have you been?" Tracey and Daphne stood before him staring with equivalent wide eyed, disbelieving looks.

"Uh… nothing. Went to the bathroom. Tripped in the bathroom, cut myself on some shards of glass unfortunately."

Daphne looked at him suspiciously. "I know it was you this morning and I'm warning you now Potter don't mess with us or we're going to have problems. Now and in the future."

And Harry could only gulp and nod as Daphne and Tracey turned their backs on him and went back into their dormitory.


	15. Chapter 15

Two minutes after Harry and Hermione had slipped around the corner, Dumbledore leading Professor McGonagoll and Snape with him ascended onto the third floor. Dumbledore had detected a large scale disturbance happening in the castle on that floor even from the dungeons where they had scoured fruitlessly in search of the troll.

The door in question was locked crudely, with a colloportus charm and all was silent inside. Dumbledore glanced at them both then with a touch and a thought he unlocked the bathroom door.

A scene of devastation. Dumbledore sighed, whoever had been responsible for the carnage had indeed done very thorough work. Snape glanced around seemingly indifferently then shrugged. Dumbledore waved his wand once and the entire bathroom began to reassemble itself back into order. A second flick dried the bathroom floor and cleaned the blood stains.

"Albus, who?"

"Whoever it was, she was obviously quite inexperienced and was improvising rather badly," Snape interjected. "Normally I would say only an upper year student could take on a troll and hope to win, but given all this," he gestured around the formerly smashed stalls, "they obviously did not come with a plan in mind. They were surprised."

"Exactly my conclusion as well Severus. I would like the prefects to deliver the roll of names of everyone who was present. I should expect the same from the other head of houses as well." McGonagoll and Snape both nodded and turned to leave.

"Not you, Severus. May I have a word?"

Snape stayed behind slightly curious but showed nothing in his features.

"Severus my instincts tell me that it was no coincidence that this troll was released on the third floor nor that it was Quirrel who reported it in the wrong place."

When later that day Dumbledore had received the list of student names at his desk in his office, with a flick of his wand… he was surprised to see both Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were missing. He chuckled to himself and helped himself to another lemon drop.

Dumbledore weighed the possibility of Harry having such a natural instinct for killing effortlessly, but perhaps it was Ms. Granger who had done it? And he weighed that against the bravery and noble heart that was required to help out a friend in distress, and again considered to himself revising his interpretation of the prophecy. Snape on the other hand was even more livid, and had he been honest to himself somewhat jealous. It was a reminder, a daily reminder to him that Potter who was a Slytherin and half blood like him had apparently befriended a bright Gryffindor who was a muggle-born, had saved her from a troll perhaps, and had accomplished what he had failed. Just like his father. Snape gnashed his teeth and went back to brewing.

Harry on the other hand, oblivious to all was even more confused and weighing the mysteries and inferences that could be drawn and trying to separate that from mere speculation.

Harry felt adamantly that Quirrel had done it. He just felt it on the basis of instinct but he had nothing other than corroborating evidence, nothing firm. Quirrel, his scar. Quirrel, the troll being in the wrong place, his foreknowledge, the fainting performance. His scar was marked the day Voldemort killed his parents, he knew this. Why did it hurt around Quirrel but not anyone else? Was it because Quirrel was a former "death eater?"

Quirrel had let it in as a distraction maybe. But for what? Harry decided to go to Dumbledore, not trusting Snape who possibly also had his own sympathies for the Dark Lord. He wanted more information about his scar which was obviously a work of dark magic. Harry was sure Dumbledore hadn't missed anything that he had been considering, but he wanted to add his scar into the weight of evidence against Quirrel.

After having arranged a meeting with the Headmaster with the Deputy Headmistress, Harry followed Professor McGonagoll on a Friday afternoon after classes. He was hoping of course that none of the Slytherins would deduce where he was going so that he could lie and just say he had gotten in trouble.

"Cauldron cakes," Professor McGonagoll announced, then excused herself saying that she was very busy.

Harry walked up the ascending staircase that was still forming and into a brightly lit office filled to the brim with very strange silver instruments. Golden sunlight was streaming in from an open window and Harry turned and saw a very handsome bird perched on a pedestal watching him closely.

He felt that he was being watched by it and not the other way around.

"This is Fawkes Harry," said a deep and steady voice from behind. Harry turned and Dumbledore walked in from the other adjacent chambers. "Please sit."

Harry did so, and Dumbledore addressed him after putting on his spectacles. "Now Harry, welcome to my office I suppose, as this is your first time being here. How may I be of service?"

"Sir, it's about my scar." Harry caught a flicker of change in Dumbledore's expression. Whenever I come into closer proximity with Professor Quirrel it hurts."

Dumbledore did not look particularly surprised by this but Harry thought that he did try to muster such an expression. He paused for a moment. "Your scar, Harry. Do you have any idea who gave it to you?"

"Yes, the Dark Lord. On the night he killed my parents."

Dumbledore frowned and picked up a sweet offering one to Harry who took it. "It is my belief Harry, that your scar was given to you precisely when Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby, but failed."

Harry had so many questions and he felt that Dumbledore knew that too as he looked into his probing, twinkling eyes. Wait. Twinkling? There was something odd about them but Harry didn't know.

"Do you know then why he failed? Why is he gone? And why does it hurt around Quirrel? Is it because Quirrel used to work with Voldemort sir?"

"I have suspicions," Dumbledore said carefully. "Suspicions, theories. I believe it was your mother's sacrifice when you were a baby that saved you from Voldemort and that ultimately vanquished him when he was foolish enough to turn his wand against a defenceless infant marked by such a sacrifice." "Such a sacrifice exists, sir?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"It does and is a most ancient and powerful magic. A power that Voldemort evidently did not spend much time considering and is ignorant of."

"And so Voldemort is gone?"

"I am not so certain of that," Dumbledore said gravely. "He may be lying in wait. Waiting for a chance to regain his strength, he is however at present not much of a threat, or should I say a much reduced threat…"

"And Quirrel sir? Why would my scar be hurting around him?"

Dumbledore chuckled to himself at Harry's apparent precociousness and his knack at picking up and investigating mysteries. He thought that such skills would be vital for fighting against someone like Voldemort who had demonstrated the most devious and impenetrable of plans.

"Harry, I am not sure why your scar hurts around Quirrel. Has it ever hurt before in other cases?"

Harry just looked determined and glared at Dumbledore for he sensed he was withholding something. "Here's what I think sir. The only time my scar has ever hurt before was following a dream. A dream of a flash of green light. Now I've read that a flash of green light is from the killing curse…" and Harry trailed off as he realized his mistake at citing a book clearly from the Restricted section…

Dumbledore just nodded gravely.

"Well that would be Voldemort right? Casting the killing curse on my parents I presume. And my scar hurt then in the dream with Voldemort. So if it hurts with Quirrel…"

"Perhaps it's because your scar is sensitive to dark magic," Dumbledore said gently his mind already turning with the implications that Harry could remember such early memories involving Voldemort. "Professor Quirrel I believe, as the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts has had exposure to plenty of dark magic, perhaps performed some himself in his studies. And no, as far as I am aware Professor Quirrel has no past ties with Voldemort."

There. Just like that Harry sat up mentally. That slight emphasis on "past" had put him on alert. Just what was Dumbledore implying?

Dumbledore seemed to have registered his change in expression and nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly looking incomparably wise. "Remember Harry, your mother's sacrifice does protect you from the likes of Lord Voldemort."

Harry nodded and then got to his feet, asking to be dismissed. Dumbledore nodded again bemused. Harry nearly rushed out of the office. He did talk in an odd stutter with strange mannerisms, something the other older students had noted was not present when he had been Professor of Muggle Studies before his one year absence from the school. Was Voldemort possessing Quirrel?


	16. Chapter 16

Now every time Harry had to sit in a class of Quirrel's he could not help but suppress a shudder and tried the utmost to remain calm. But his heart was racing every time Quirrel so much as glanced in his direction. He did do his utmost to conceal what he felt, but he was just sure Quirrel would have suspected him by now, just from a glance. If indeed he was being possessed. So Voldemort, if indeed he was the possessor would know as well?

Did Voldemort still want to kill him? Most certainly yes, Harry felt, but he was reassured for the time being of his mother's sacrifice. Voldemort had failed once, he wouldn't be so foolish to try it again.

Now Harry had an even stronger motivation to continue to work hard in his extracurricular spell-work and research, for if Voldemort was still here and waiting for a chance to return as Dumbledore claimed, he could be hunted one day. Still, the irregular difficulty of sneaking books from the Restricted Section to read was hampering his progress, and so he turned to more regular standard spells from the 3rd and 4th year to learn instead, however questioning how useful they might be in a real duel or battle scenario.

In the weeks leading up to the first quidditch match, always between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Harry noted for the first time the immense influence that quidditch wielded in the wizarding world, in House politics and esteem. It was from this first understanding that he would choose to try for a position the next year, all to enhance his standing within his House.

He was after all good with a broom, extremely good he had found. Every practice session they had with Madam Hooch saw him trying new manoeuvres and stunts. He loved flying, he wasn't sure about the quidditch but he felt he could tolerate it. After all Slytherins loved winning, they usually did win from the looks of it for the past few years, and if he could help them win…

Harry's enthusiasm was second only to Draco Malfoy who constantly boasted about his own flying skills suggesting that he was "holding back because he didn't want to embarrass Harry," and that the two of them would make for "a deadly duo" the next year. Then he would boast about his father and how that would guarantee him a spot on the team and Harry realized he didn't seem to see any contradiction in his statements about his own talent and his father's influence. He thought they were complementary.

Draco also told all the first years that he would be the Seeker of Slytherin House starting next year and that he had trained all his life in that position. Noting that and not wishing to come into conflict with Malfoy just yet despite Seeker being the most prestigious position, if you could catch the snitch that was, Harry decided to follow in the footsteps of his father and try for Chaser.

In the days leading up to the match there were constant scuffles in the corridors, one burly Gryffindor tried to grab Harry by the collar of his neck and was repelled by a stinging hex. Duels and brawls. While Harry did not to ride the enthusiasm of Quidditch for the benefit of himself he did find the antics and the passions it stirred up to be irritating. It was just a game after all.

On the day of the match, Harry eating with his fellow first years could see the Slytherin team huddled at the other end of the table in discussion. Craning his neck back, he saw the same mirrored at the end of the Gryffindor table. The Slytherins seemed supremely confident from the looks of it, while the Gryffindors were more passionate, determined. It would be an interesting match.

The entire school, not just Gryffindor and Slytherin, Harry noted was making its way to the pitch. Ahead he could see the banners fluttering high in the wind, and felt his heart skip in spite of himself. He then noted with interest that the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws too were invested in the match and that apparently Gryffindor and Slytherin dynamics affected the whole school.

The pack of them found good seats in the upper tiers. Harry was next to Daphne and Nott. He scanned around the stands and saw that most people were dressed in the gold and red.

"Hey Nott," he asked, "aren't Ravenclaws generally supportive of Slytherin House?"

Nott nodded. "Yes usually, but because we've been winning for so long, four titles in the last five years, it's only natural that all the other houses want to cheer for the underdogs."

And the match had begun with the Quaffle being tossed high, the golden Snitch disappearing, the bludgers flailing around unpredictably and the red and green streaks tearing off. Harry could barely see much from the distance and could vaguely see who was in possession, the loud whacks of bludgers being hit and the screams of the crowd, the very biased commentary…

"Why on earth is a Gryffindor commentating" complained Daphne Greengrass, "they should have let someone from Hufflepuff do it."

"To be fair McGonagoll is castigating him," Harry told her.

"Little good that will do."

The Slytherins Harry could see were the superior team, but just barely. The beaters and the Keeper Harry thought that the Gryffindors held an advantage. He could recognize Fred and George Weasley, twin scarlet and identical apparitions appearing out of nowhere as they whacked ferociously always coming out ahead of their Slytherin counterparts.

Wood was much better than Bletchley. Slytherin however made up for it with superior chasers who worked better together even though the Gryffindor chasers did seem to have superior individual skills.

The scores were sixty-forty after half an hour.

"What a gruelling low-scoring match," Harry heard Zabini complain.

"Gryffindor have really improved from last year," Daphne said to his right. "Wood has gotten a lot better, so have the Weasley twins. Their newest member Spinnet does seem to have integrated well with Johnson and Bell."

Higgs suddenly went into a dive and trailing him McLaggen for Gryffindor House. The crowd was suddenly at his feet and Harry stood too. Malfoy was yelling and screaming, "FASTER HIGGS FASTER."

Suddenly McLaggen slammed into Higgs sending him careening to the right and he just managed to remain in control of his broom. But in that confusion McLaggen had lost the snitch and Hooch called a foul.

"I think we'll be in trouble for the next few years," Nott said and Daphne nodded. "Our beaters are retiring and they're already overmatched. The Gryffindor team is very young and will dominate in the upcoming years. They've really rebuilt their squad but their seeker is obviously an idiot."

Harry agreed with the sentiment as he watched Flint score on Wood. McLaggen seemed more suited for Beater than anything else. His style of play was aggressive, and even though he was younger than Higgs he felt no problem in man-marking and physically attacking him. But even if it did hamper the opposite Seeker it wasn't going to help him catch the snitch at all.

"Let's hope Higgs stays focused on the task," Harry said. Ten minutes later of increasingly hot-tempered plays and fouls, Harry noted that most of the goals being scored now were from penalties, Harry spotted the snitch.

"There," he gestured to Daphne pointing, "at the opposite end of the pitch beneath Wood's goalposts."

Tracey squealed. "How did you spot that?"

Daphne looked surprised. Higgs and McLaggen still man-marking him aggressively did not come anywhere close to seeing it.

Then in a move that led the whole Slytherin crowd into an uproar of cheers, Higgs accelerated, McLaggen following but he swerved at the last minute. McLaggen who was so focused on marking Higgs that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings took a bludger to the head as Higgs timed it perfectly with Yaxley, one of the Slytherin beaters.

McLaggen toppled over and fell. A cry of "Arresto Momentum" was heard and Harry looked up and saw the Headmaster from the grand stand on his feet, his wand raised. McLaggen's descent slowed and he fell gracefully like a leaf.

Two Gryffindors rushed onto the pitch to try and revive him and patch up his wound.

"There," Harry said again pointing. This time Higgs had seen it as well. In a steep dive, one of the Weasley twins sent a bludger after him from behind that he wouldn't see to dodge…

The Slytherin beaters were nowhere near. Flint flew to the rescue and took the bludger with his right arm breaking, the crack of which could be heard throughout the entire pitch. The next second, Higgs triumphant had caught the snitch and held it upraised as the whole of Slytherin crowd erupted.


	17. Chapter 17

Before Harry knew it, Christmas had almost arrived. He'd been at Hogwarts three and a half months now. He could have scarcely imagined beforehand how much magic he would end up knowing, and in such a short period. Magic after all had so many conveniences. He could charm feather light his school bag, summon things he needed with a flick, to tidy up all he needed was to focus hard on how he wanted the things scattered to be ordered and then to will it be. The growing uses that spells could be applied to only made him all the more enthusiastic to peruse and learn even more.

Harry had also begun at this time to withhold performing more complex skills in front of his house mates, because in many ways he did not trust them and that was probably wise. He had after all noted that practical magic hardly ever came so easily to anyone, and so he had to hide his capabilities so as to not stand out and invite much attention. If indeed Voldemort was still a threat, and many of his house mates the children of his servants and sympathizers.

One day, when at the library again he overheard Ron Weasley bickering with an animated Hermione Granger with Neville in the middle.

"I told you Weasley, that idiotic outing of yours nearly got us killed and you want to try something like that again…"

"Hey it was interesting and at least we got to learn they're keeping a great three-headed guard dog… why they're keeping the third floor corridor out of bounds…"

Neville trembled and looked down.

"If you break the rules again, I will report you," Hermione said jabbing a finger at Ron's chest, "and I won't regret it. You really don't care do you. If it hadn't been for me, we might have all died… or worse expelled."

Then she turned on her heels and marched away fuming.

Realization suddenly hit him. He had suddenly connected all the dots but lost it again almost immediately. The troll on the third floor. That was what it was a distraction for. Was Quirrel trying to get past something on the third floor corridor that was out of bounds? Guarded by a three headed dog? He would check that. Was that why it was out of bounds? So he was after something being guarded of course. But what needed guarding? Hadn't Hagrid said…

Harry closed his eyes and tried to recall the precise words. Hagrid had said… in response to his question on the break-in at Gringotts… Dumbledore was doing an old friend a favour. He had asked Hagrid and he replied he was on a special mission that day of the break in. He had denied it had anything to do with the break-in, but what needed guarding? Something that couldn't even be kept safe at Gringotts. Something somebody, maybe Voldemort through Quirrel wanted to steal. And if Dumbledore was doing an old friend a favour… then it could concern the break in if he was helping him guard something from imminent theft.

The third floor corridor had been accessible in previous years. Harry had heard upper year Slytherins wondering about just that. Was it now being used to guard something?

He rubbed his scar impatiently. He needed to see Hagrid and clarify things. He trusted whatever Quirrel or possibly Voldemort wanted to steal was being kept well guarded by Dumbledore if it really was that valuable. But he wanted to know what was being guarded and why Quirrel possibly Voldemort, wanted it so much?

He was worried. He couldn't deny that, and probably a bit paranoid too. He just couldn't help it. For Harry, this was personal as Voldemort had not only killed his parents but was probably out to kill him too.

As he left the castle it began to snow slightly and he saw astonished as Hagrid ventured out of the Forbidden Forest ahead single handedly toting an entire Christmas tree that he slung over his back.

He spotted him as he approached and Harry waved.

"Help yerself," Hagrid grunted. "It isn't locked, Fang'll welcome ye." He gestured to his snow-covered hut again and Harry nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I get a few things done."

Harry entered the hut and silenced Fang with a sweep of his wand and appreciated the warm fire and the steaming kettle smoking.

Ten minutes later, Hagrid came staggering in through the front door somewhat winded from his labours. Harry quickly drew up a chair and he flopped down with large creak.

"Thanks," Hagrid said wiping his brow. He grabbed the kettle off the fire and poured them two steaming cups and then proffered Harry a plate of stone cakes.

"Now, Harry. How've you been? Doin' well in yer lessons I hear?"

"Uh, yes." Harry cleared his throat. "Listen Hagrid, I've become really concerned after the troll break-in…"  
"Yeah, I'd heard. Nasty work o' business that."

"Well Quirrel was wrong about everything," Harry said plainly. "He was completely wrong about where the troll was, it was in a third floor bathroom not the dungeons. And he was wrong about why it happened. I checked the third floor corridor afterwards and the door leading to the three headed dog…"

Hagrid sat up and shushed him. That had been a test of course, Harry hadn't really checked on anything after defeating the troll. And only after he had overheard Hermione with Ron had he checked the third floor corridor. But yes, there really was a real, breathing, vicious dog inside. At least it sound as much.

"Blimey Harry how did you know about Fluffy?" "Fluffy?"

"Yeah, she's mine." Hagrid looked disturbed. "Listen you shouldna been able to know about any o' this."

"That's not the point. The door was unlocked. Someone was trying to get through, Quirrel reported the troll conveniently in exactly the wrong place. And while all the teachers were distracted and in the dungeons, somebody tried to get past Fluffy."

Hagrid scratched his beard. "Could'a been a coincidence." He looked deeply skeptical and uncomfortable. "Listen Harry, it's not in your place to worry about any of this stuff. If you trust Dumbledore like I do, and make no mistake, Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever known. Whatever the problems with guarding it is between himself and Nicholas Flamel…"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified with himself. "I shouldna told you that. Best you forget it now, Harry do you hear, forget I said anything…"

Harry had heard of Nicolas Flamel of course, but back in his childhood days when he had been researching about his special "abilities." Harry then supposed the muggle "legend" about him really had some substance in it, and he really had created the mythical philosopher's stone that allowed you to live forever. Hagrid did refer to him in the present tense. Yes such a stone would need to be closely guarded supposing you could only make one, or Flamel wanted to keep it a secret for very sensible reasons…

Given how easily Hagrid had leaked information to him, Harry did wonder if Hagrid posed a security threat, depending on how much he knew. Because it did seem that anyone who wanted to know more about the defences of whatever it was, the philosopher's stone probably, could use Hagrid to acquire the critical information.

If Voldemort got his hands on it, that would be catastrophic. He'd probably be getting all his old powers back and then some. But then Dumbledore seemed to be well aware of the risks and was comfortable with it…

Harry was not. But he knew logically he could trust Dumbledore to have far more protections for the stone than just a three headed dog. Protections so powerful a weakened Voldemort possessing Quirrel couldn't possibly break. So there was no real need to worry just yet. There was a reason after all the stone was moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts. Dumbledore could probably provide even better protection.

He'd finally connected all the dots and made the connection between Hagrid's mission at Gringotts, the stone, as well as the break in. Harry logically then tied Quirrel with both the break in and the attempt to distract the professors in an attempt probably to test the defences of the stone at Hogwarts.

He decided to go to Dumbledore about it.

The next day he had arranged another meeting with Dumbledore through a quite exasperated Professor McGonagoll who told him the headmaster was a very busy man, but told him he would be in his office after supper.

Dumbledore was just as cryptic as before, seemingly impressed by Harry's reasoning but ended with his firm statement that the stone was absolutely safe and that soon nobody with any ill-intentions could possibly get their hands on it.

And Harry accepted that, feeling much more reassured. He could finally relax again.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry awoke on Christmas Day

The entire dormitory was emptied of course. There was not a single Slytherin who had opted to stay for the holidays, and for the entire school possibly only a handful of students. His house mates had looked at him very oddly for a while, Draco and Zabini had snickered, Tracey and Daphne were sympathetic for his being an orphan.

Harry yawned and reached for his spectacles. A small pile of presents were at the foot of his bed and he did find himself wondering about it. Just who cleaned the dormitories or caused food to just appear out of thin air in the great hall, who had carried their trunks from the train, and who was now being the Christmas day delivery people?

All these could be accomplished by magic of course, but still you needed someone to actually perform the magic. Certainly the professors or the Headmaster couldn't bother as there were hundreds of students. And food couldn't be just conjured, Harry knew that now from his reading, you had to cook it first and then transport it. You couldn't even increase its size because that would lead to malnourishment on the part of the eater.

Harry unwrapped the smallest package. It turned out to be a pair of sunglasses. He read the letter.

To Harry Hope you are having a good Christmas. We are vacationing in Majorca and Spain. We bought your Christmas present the other day. Mum and pop want to know why the payments on your behalf have stopped?

Dudley Dursley.

Harry snickered and tossed the sunglasses straight into his trunk. Then he summoned them again and put them on. It was useless cause he couldn't see anything being short-sighted. Finally he grabbed a piece of parchment and wrote a reply wishing them a Merry Christmas and that the payments would probably resume when he returned for the months of the summer holidays.

Harry also received a flute from Hagrid that he seemed to have carved himself, it was quite beautifully made, a box of sweets from Nott, and to his surprise a full exploding snap set from Draco. Harry did feel somewhat uncomfortable as he had only gifted a box of chocolate frogs to Drago via owl order.

Surprisingly he also received a short book from Hermione detailing practical tips on magical self-defence and he felt guilty since he hadn't thought to send her anything. He would have to write a thank you Christmas letter in reply.

The last parcel was soft and mysteriously light for its size. Harry tore it open and found cloak made of fine fabric, silvery lengths giving it a strange sheen.

A letter fell out.

Your father left his in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well.

It was his father's cloak? Harry stroked its surface, admiring its finely woven, incredibly smooth texture and wrapped it around himself.

A cloak of invisibility?

His arms and body had vanished. But they were still there he could feel them and himself. Harry cast the cloak off and they reappeared to sight. Wearing it again, his torso vanished.

Harry pulled the whole cloak over his head and stumbled into the bathroom.

With a loud cry of exhilaration, Harry began laughing. Then he stopped as he considered the implications.

Excitement suddenly exploded through Harry. He thought of the possibilities. He had been working on the disillusionment charm in the recent week, but had found it extremely difficult to get to the point of near invisibility. He still easily spotted his own hand it just wasn't practical.

With this he could go anywhere he wanted, at any time and no one would ever be the wiser. It was a secret weapon even. He could read whatever he wanted from the Restricted Section…

A savage grin suddenly broke out of Harry and he began to smirk as he plotted his revenge.

Harry had an extremely enjoyable Christmas even if his mind was on other things, namely the cloak. Less than a dozen students remained, and Harry had a pleasant time chatting with them and getting to know them as they all sat around a single table. House decorum be damned.

The fire was merry, the food and the turkey in particular was excellent. The Hall decorations were marvellous and Harry again wondered, who's work?

In particular Harry and the Weasley twins spent a great length of conversation considering the various pranks and scenarios that could be played. Later all the students trooped out and engaged in a massive snowball fight, first with magic, then without magic. Harry also played a game of Wizarding chess with Ron who was eager to challenge anyone and suffered a crushing defeat as he was even better than Draco.

At last Harry excused himself after dinner and made his way to the library where he looked up enlargement charms, transfiguration, shape and space altering spells.

He spent the rest of the evening and much of the next few days working. Finally in his first piece of creative magic, Harry after days of almost disastrous experimentation and research managed to enchant his pants pocket to a size where he could fit his new invisibility cloak with him at all times. It could after all come in handy. And he had learned a considerable amount in the process with regards to spell creation and experimentation.

Then came his secret nightly forays to the Restricted Section where he would pilfer what he desired and read at the table by candlelight. He had tested it previously and sure enough even light did not show up to the outside when covered entirely by the cloak.

He learned about the unforgivable curses, inferi, and spells of immense destruction on human organs… He discounted most of the latter because they were mostly impractical in duels where a stunner was quicker and easier to pull off. Not to mention they could be countered easily, and most of his focus was on trying to find all the counter-spells to particular nasty curses and to read up on their attributes so he could easily recognize them in a potential duel.

One night, Harry noticed a side room in the library that was usually locked and empty inside had its door cast wide open. Peeping inside, he saw an ornate mirror propped up against a wall. It had an unusually shiny reflection.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry didn't imagine Dumbledore would leave anything dangerous lying around, but as the door was usually locked Harry whipped out his wand and began checking for curses.

Not finding anything, he stared directly into the mirror, preparing to leave.

It showed his reflection. But how? He was under the cloak.

Harry threw the cloak off himself. The reflection in the mirror did not change. It showed him whole. Then it did change.

Harry saw a man and a woman. And then himself in the middle of the two. Suddenly he was embraced in the arms of a red-haired woman, with green eyes. While the man in glasses in turn ruffled his hair, having the same messy style as he did.

He watched slowly overwhelmed and realized he was seeing his very parents for the first time as if they had never died at all.

Suspicion suddenly entered into him, it was an enchantment to lure him into something. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from the mirror's surface and onto the cold, hard wooden floor. Who knows what a mirror like that could make him do? It could weaken him, it could bewitch him. It was dangerous.

And just why would someone make a mirror that showed him these things? These things that he couldn't bear… What did the mirror do anyway? Show him what he most wanted, but could never have?

He couldn't help it and stared back. Now he saw himself enjoying a joke with his father as he had his arm around him while his mother made a look of mock annoyance. And in the very background, Harry could see like so many ghosts, a whole family of what looked like aged grandparents, a grandfather with the same wobbly knees, a cottage house in a small village with peaceful green hedges and a stone cut path…

Fear, terror and despair clutched at his heart and he ran away as fast as he could.

But he returned the following the night. And the following. He couldn't help it at all. It was as if the mirror had discovered his weakness, his very own special weakness that it could use to destroy his heart. He knew he was being bewitched by it, by its sheer beauty of the vision within.

It isn't real, Harry told himself a hundred times. But how he so wished it were so.

But in the end, he had mustered the strength to cease his visits. He did not dare to visit the library anymore, not during the day, certainly not during the night. After his seventh visit, with the castle about to welcome all the students back for the new year, Harry managed to bury the desires of his heart.


	19. Chapter 19

Marcus Flint came back from Quidditch Practice feeling pleased with himself as he was now a resident hero of Slytherin House following his heroic but not stupid actions against Gryffindor that had been necessary to win the match. He had just received an acceptance to try out for reserve Chaser for the Wimborne Wasps by scouts who had been watching. A future Quidditch career had suddenly seemed within reach.

He turned the corner and began to head up to the Prefect's bathroom for a wash. As he mounted a staircase and came to a landing, he just had time to notice a flash of red… a stunner! Before he crumpled to the floor.

A stunned Marcus Flint then vanished. Although he didn't know it. When he came to approximately an hour later, he found himself in total darkness and in close surroundings with many objects. He began to freak out. It was only a minute later that he realized he was in a small broom cupboard.

Flint felt around in the total darkness already feeling angry at this prank that was being played on him when he finally managed to grasp the door handle and pushed.

It was locked. Flint cursed and searched frantically for his wand. It wasn't there. Flint began to really panic now as the air that was filtering through the tiny gaps in the doors was barely enough for breathing. He began to scream and rock around as best he could in the confined surroundings but to no avail. He kicked out, he smashed the door with his fists with all his strength, his heart was about to give out in total fear. There was nothing. He tried to sleep but who knows where he was, which broom cupboard was he in anyways? Would anyone find him? Flint would not have the answer to any of those questions. It was hours later that someone heard his banging and shouting. That person in question was Argus Filch who had muttered about leaving him in there for a night in punishment before departing for twenty minutes to retrieve keys. When Flint fell out of the cupboard gasping for air, Filch had already pulled him off to see Snape who subsequently sentenced him to a week's worth of detentions.

The rest of the day, for it was nearly morning by the time Filch had found him, Flint could barely stay awake for his classes. And as he still hadn't found his wand he couldn't perform in Transfiguration or Defence Against the Dark Arts. When classes were over he stumbled back to bed missing dinner and found his wand under his pillow.

But that wasn't all. All his house mates had laughed at his misfortune and the sheer incompetence that must have been involved to be ambushed in the back so easily. A few days later, Yaxley had vanished. He was not found for two days, and this time in a broom cupboard halfway up the Divination tower. Then Rosier. Carrow.

Flint didn't have any question after this that Harry Potter had been involved. How he had managed to ambush all of them like that without their slightest ability to detect him, and multiple times too even after it had been clear they were being targeted, was befuddling. No matter how alert they had been Jugson, Rowle, Travers had all been ambushed successfully.

But as the terrifying experience he had found himself in had never been repeated, he was also quite content to leave him well alone.

Harry meanwhile in preparation for all this had experimented and found you could cast spells clear under the cloak at an external object. Magic did not seem physical in the sense that it would be blocked by a cloak. Even conjuration for say ropes to tie something or someone up worked well enough so long as you directed it to the outside. It had also taken him a week to manage to cast a silent stunner with reasonable consistency. But he had managed it. And as he no longer dared to go back to the library to learn any new spells, he found he had plenty of time on hand to practice silent casting for all the magic he did know. Pretty soon, he was nearly as proficient in it as with verbal casting.

He had thought he had gotten away with it, but one day he received a summon from Professor Snape who was seething with anger and was led by him up to see the Headmaster.

"Headmaster I demand that you expel Potter from school, he has been attacking my students and terrorizing them…"

"Severus be reasonable, first of all Harry is one of your students too. And what proof do you have that Harry was responsible for these apparent disappearings?"

Harry tried hard not to look at Dumbledore's eyes for any length of time, but also tried hard not to make it seem like he was deliberately avoiding his eyes. He had after all, realized that eye contact was one of the means of legilimency…

Snape was flustered as he knew he couldn't muster any amount of solid proof. Or at least couldn't state the source of his accusations. Truth be told he knew he was being unfair as the only reason he had to suspect Potter was the very reason he launched the attacks in the first place, namely for retaliation. This was Slytherin house dynamics at work here, nothing that had to involve an outsider. If it had been any other student…

But his heart burned with vindictive and righteous rage. "Headmaster if you would check Potter's wand you would realize that he has performed quite a few stunners of late."

Harry shrugged. "I like stunners. Deadly useful in a potential duel. I have been practicing frequently myself as of late trying to master it."

In the end Dumbledore dismissed them both due to the lack of evidence. But as they left he slowly got to his feet and felt every bit an old man. He had not missed all those signs of probable guilt and although he had not managed to probe anything from legilimency, the very fact that Harry knew and tried to avoid it, did imply guilt. He couldn't be certain of course, but he was fairly sure that Harry had been responsible.

Dumbledore could of course deduce what was going on. All the students that had been "attacked" by Harry had family members who were servants and death eaters of Lord Voldemort. He could not have received a very welcoming reception in his House he now realized. And he suddenly felt guilty that he had not done more to protect Harry. Again he had assumed that Severus would look after him and protect him for the sake of Lily. But for relatively small trivial things apparently, he had again, it seemed, been wrong.

Dumbledore was proud that Harry was learning to defend himself and was being restrained in doing so, putting the cloak to well use. He was very surprised that an eleven year old boy being attacked by seventh years, and had found no help from his Head of House had told not a single soul of his troubles. Had managed to train himself up in preparation and defence. And when he had received the cloak, had put it to so efficient a use, as a weapon. It was quite disturbing indeed.


	20. Chapter 20

News of his victory had spread fast, now Harry could walk with a new stride to his step. Having heard whispers speculating on how he had humiliated the upper years, he even had to deal with students from other years, even those years older than him seeking to be under his umbrella of protection. Needless to say as Harry didn't know any of their affairs or where their disputes originated, he politely declined although he did make note that he would take a more active interest in the welfare of fellow house mates.

He was also on the outlook for retaliation so he made sure to stay in the crowds and had his wand in hand at all times. Just in case they did retaliate… they'd have to be really stupid to keep this pointless feud going, especially as they now should know the power he held over them. If they tried to escalate things on the other hand to permanently disable him, they would get in trouble with the aurors. Wasn't worth it. Or at least if they were any bit rational.

After the second Quidditch match against Ravenclaw where Slytherin won by two hundred points which put the house firmly on course to win both Quidditch and House Cups, he was on his way with the rest of the first years returning to the castle when he caught a glimpse of Hagrid's cabin.

There was a small plume of black smoke issuing from a window. Excusing himself and feeling suspicious, Harry walked purposefully towards it. About fifty steps away, he heard an inhuman, shrill cry.

Harry ran forward as quickly as he could and peeked through the window. Inside Hagrid was desperately trying to put out the flames from the curtain of his other window.

"Aguamenti," Harry said pointing his wand. A small jet of water shot out of the end of his wand that he just managed to hold steady.

Then he heard a screech, and craning his head at the window, Harry spotted a baby dragon hopping around in the floor of the cabin, green scaled and with wicked looking eyes and quite sharp talons and teeth.

"Who's is it?" came Hagrid's voice.

Harry went to the door and knocked and announced himself. Inside he could hear Hagrid muttering to himself and then he reluctantly allowed him entry.

"Now, I know how this looks to yeh but really I can handle…"

"Hagrid, dragon breeding from what I know is illegal…"

"I know, I know," Hagrid cried waving his gigantic hands impatiently. "So I'd really appreciate if you didn't go around saying nothin'…"

Harry looked at the dragon skeptically who was still emitting shrill cries. Another burst of flame and Harry whipped out his wand and put it out.

"Hagrid how did you get hold of a dragon in the first place?" "None o' your business," Hagrid sullenly said, "His name's Norbert and I'd really appreciate it if yeh could just…"

"How old is Norbert?" Harry asked, "I'm not an expert on dragons but you would know that eventually it's going to come out as he grows bigger. Think Hagrid!" Harry was extremely exasperated. "Even today I could see something was wrong and there was smoke billowing out your windows, what happens when Norbert grows too big to stay inside?"

"Well I was plannin' on buildin' him a shelter in the Forbidden Forest before too long…"

"I suggest you do it now," said Harry shaking his head in disbelief. He leapt back as Norbert pounced at him and blocked another small jet of fire. "Before anyone comes and reports on you. Seriously, Hagrid, Dragons don't like being chained up to trees…" Harry broke off and saw a face in the opposite window to where he was standing and he quickly darted forward but it was too late.

"Hagrid someone was spying on us just now!"

Hagrid leapt forward and wrenched the door open, in the background Harry could see the back of Draco Malfoy scurrying quickly back to castle as fast as his little legs would carry him.

"I'll go and deal with him," Harry said resignedly, "but you have to get rid of Norbert now. Do you have any idea…"

Harry was surprised to see Hagrid's face scrunched up with tears. "I knew that this day was comin'," he wailed and Harry had to suppress an urge to cover his ears, "ever since he was born I knew I couldn' stay with him forever." Hagrid withdrew a blackened oversized handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing at his eyes. "But I never knew… so soon…" Hagrid burst into tears again and Harry awkwardly left and went back to the castle. For a moment he considered just dropping it and leaving Hagrid to his fate, but no he would have to help him to keep a friend. How Hagrid could find a vicious dragon adorable Harry didn't know. He couldn't find Malfoy in the common room however, and he had to wait for dinner that day to catch up with him.

Malfoy was gleeful. Harry tactfully pretended he knew nothing and they chatted nonchalantly about informal topics. If Draco had already told someone, then there was nothing to be done and Hagrid would have been arrested already. As it was, the following morning he received a letter from Hagrid detailing the plans to transport Norbert away.


	21. Chapter 21

That night brought about complications however. Draco followed him everywhere, from the washroom to the library back to the common room, it was as if he was taunting him. It was so persistent in fact that Harry didn't even have a moment to walk off and put on the cloak. So he did what he had to do.

"You want to go out past the hour," asked Draco half incredulously, half mockingly after Harry had informed him. "Well that seems stupid to me, you could get caught, lose us points. Why?"

"I need to get something from the restricted section… new spells…"

"Let me come with you then."

Harry sighed exasperatedly and noted the time. "Draco, I've gone past the hour multiple times now, you must know that already, so why start complaining now?"

"I need to go with you this time to make sure you don't get caught." Draco now sneered. "With whatever you're planning with that oaf."

It took Harry a while to connect that he was talking about Hagrid.

"Seriously, Draco don't interfere. This is between Hagrid and I, do you hear," he said in a low voice. "What's in it for you? Why do you care about it anyways?"

"As I said I need to make sure you don't get caught."

"I think you ought to be more concerned with making friends Draco, rather than unnecessary enemies."

In the end it came to whether Harry was willing to reveal the cloak and he most certainly was not. Well at least not entirely.

"I have an invisibility cloak that only fits one," he lied easily. "Sorry Draco, but if you came you would only increase the chances of Slytherin losing points."

When he had finally got rid of him, he was ten minutes late and rushed down to Hagrid's, the cloak billowing in the night, but he couldn't care less. When Hagrid had said his final tearful goodbyes to Norbert, Harry had left. As soon as he was out of sight, he stunned Norbert to stop him trying to set his robes on fire.

The night was forbidding, the walk to the tower seemed long and arduous compared during the day. Harry was delayed by another five minutes waiting for Peeves to pass. As he scrambled up the steps, his heart beating intensely…

Filch was waiting at him at the top of the tower.

Harry's jaw dropped and for a moment he almost forgot he was invisible. He had been tipped off. He had to be. Filch who usually patrolled the corridors was clearly waiting for someone. His eyes were suspicious and nasty. And he showed no sign of hurry. Harry was glad that at least Ms. Norris didn't seem around because he sometimes did feel that she could sense his presence even when invisible.

There was nothing for it. Harry waited. And waited.

Finally there was a swishing sound from the window, and outside Charlie Weasley had dismounted from his broom on the battlements. Filch immediately headed for him, not even surprised, and began haranguing him.

"What is the meaning of this? Who authorized your entry to this school? I recognize you, you're the Quidditch captain for Gryffindor House from last year. But you graduated! What are you doing back here of all places in the middle of the night?"

"Dumbledore authorized it," Charlie said in a bored tone barely even willing to glance at Filch as he rolled his eyes annoyed. "How else do you think I could get past the castle's defences? I'm expecting someone to deliver a certain Norwegian Ridgeback tonight, as arranged…"

"A dragon? Aha I knew there was something illegal going on…"

"It's not your jurisdiction Filch," Charlie said harshly and impatiently. "The dragon in question does not belong to a student but a member of staff and you have no power there."

Filch spluttered but finally fell silent. Harry was at this time trying to surreptitiously slip Norbert out, but Filch that paranoid git kept glancing back at where he was every two seconds. Charlie then went inside the tower and Harry watched as he and Filch stood still for a moment, surveying the scene. Then Charlie whipped out his wand.

"Tempus. Blimey, they're late whoever's supposed to be delivering…"

Another ten minutes passed. Underneath the cloak, Harry was wrestling with himself. When Charlie turned back to the battlements to look to see if anyone was flying outside, it intensified ten fold.

Half of him wanted to kill Draco Malfoy, but he pushed that down for now. Somehow, he had gotten wind of the plan to use the Astronomy Tower. He had to have been spying on Hagrid full-time, that no good little piece of…

Of course he was really tempted now that Charlie had turned away to whip out his wand underneath the cloak and stun Filch. No one would be the wiser. Or he could simply blind him for a minute, slip Norbert and the cage out from his cloak for Charlie to see and beat it. Besides he despised Filch.

But he also knew Filch was most likely a squib and unable to use magic. He just didn't like the idea of hexing a defenceless person like that, no matter how unpleasant.

Harry cursed his Gryffindorish instincts and made his choice. Knowing that he would most certainly regret it later, he whipped the cloak off him and said loudly. "Alright I surrender. I surrender."

Filch whipped around and saw him. "Aha," he cried smiling nastily, "what have we here, student out of bed, how did you manage to hide from me just now?" He looked around suspiciously but Harry had already stuffed his cloak back into his pocket.

"Disillusionment charm," Harry said shortly. When Charlie returned, Harry quickly handed Norbert off to him who then nodded to Harry sympathetically and flew away. Filch wasn't concerned about the dragon any longer. He had caught a student out of bed and was now able to see punishment done. It was one of life's pleasures and he always felt grumpy if he went more than three nights without catching a single student.

Harry was led by Filch to see Snape and muttered about corporal punishment, whippings, and chains in his office the whole time and felt his temper rose. He still felt his fingers itch around his wand and he longed to do something, but that was obviously out of the question now that he was no longer invisible. He forced himself to remain calm, and said nothing. He would plead his case before his Head of House (much the worse for him), who would then decide his punishment. Harry knew Snape never took points for Slytherin transgressions but that he was quite harsh with the detentions.

"Potter!" Snape snarled almost leaping from his chair. "I knew you were up to something no-good again! Out of bed in the middle of the night for no good reason. Disgrace to your house. Thank you Argus," he said nodding to Filch who withdrew much disappointed.

"Why aren't you in bed either, Professor?"

"Cheek, Potter. I suggest you hold your tongue before your Head of House who is about to decide on your punishment. After those spate of attacks which I know you were responsible, I will include those misdeeds into the score. Detentions, everyday after dinner until the end of term; you will be scrubbing the dungeons and cupboards for three hours every night. Now get out of my sight!"

Harry nodded furiously, bowed mockingly and was about to turn. "By the way, professor. The only reason I was out past curfew was to help a friend."

"I DON'T CARE WHY YOU WERE OUT OF BED! AND IF IT'S TO HELP A FRIEND THAT MAKES YOU EVEN MORE FOOLISH THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED," Snape spat at him. "Now get out."

He returned to the common room feeling extremely irritated and yet more surprise was awaiting him. Upon entering, he found Daphne, Nott, Malfoy, and Zabini waiting for him and he barely managed to suppress the anger from his face when he saw the smirking face of Draco.


	22. Chapter 22

He was barely, just barely able to stop himself raging. He was trembling. It was just hard, hard to have a wand and know how to use it and inflict harm and revenge, and be powerless to do anything at the same time.

"I had nothing to do with this Potter," came Draco's innocent face, "you have to believe me! I didn't tell anyone! It must have been someone else who was spying on Hagrid!"

"Irregardless, what were you thinking?" Zabini was incredulous. "You decided to risk our House, detentions, points, just to help Hagrid who was breaking the rules? Are you kidding me Potter that's the most reckless thing that I would expect…"

"From a Gryffindor yeah," Daphne was amused and chuckled.

"That's not the point," Harry retorted angrily, "he…" and gestured an ugly thumb towards Malfoy, "betrayed a fellow House member for frankly self-vindictive purposes and caused Filch to catch me by tipping him off. He knew where to wait for Merlin's sake! He could have cost Slytherin House points for his own incomprehensible grudges!"

"How many times Potter do I have to say I had nothing to do with this?"

"It doesn't matter," said Nott calmly, "because Snape would never take points from Slytherin House in the first place. So I'm more concerned with your actions. It's your own stupid fault that you went out for a stupid reason and got yourself caught. It's proper punishment for you to set your priorities straight. Yes and you should have attacked Filch as well if you were invisible. So don't expect any sympathy from us. I'm going to bed."

"A foolish exercise to help someone who is breaking the law and run the risk of disgracing Slytherin House. How foolish," Zabini said dismissively.

He was incredulous. "You're just going to let Malfoy get away with blatantly telling on a house mate? What if he turns on you next?"

Nott with his back turned didn't answer. Daphne just gave him an inscrutable look for an instant, then left with Zabini.

Alone Draco smirked slightly at him and followed them. He was glad that Nott, Zabini, Greengrass realized where real power rested in Slytherin House. Perhaps Potter would learn now too.

Harry just couldn't stand it and he had lost his temper by now.

"You're a bunch of heartless idiots who don't ever see the gain to be had in acting to help others! This is exactly the reason why Slytherin House is isolated from the rest of Hogwarts and will never be as powerful or respected as it deserves to be!"

There was silence in the common room as everyone had already left.

Harry was now spending every single day, seven days a week, scrubbing potion cupboards for three hours per day without magic for what he felt was doing the right thing. He didn't even regret not attacking Filch any longer. Arguing with his house mates in heated terms had cleared up the whole moral dilemma to him, and he felt more reassured that he was in the right than anything else.

Now that he was spending over three hours every night scrubbing the dungeons, not allowed to use magic, he had no time to study magic on his own and was barely able to stay on top of his schoolwork. The castle had suddenly seemed extremely unwelcoming, as he felt more isolated than ever, as if he had gone right back to being attacked by seventh years every evening.

One evening, he received another letter from Hagrid. It did not mention Norbert or even offer a late apology, what Harry thought was deserved to him. Apparently he was to be skipping cleaning detentions for the night and helping with him patrol the Forbidden Forest.

Joy. Apparently, Hagrid thought that he was doing him a favour and that it was to make up for getting him into the detentions in the first place. Harry suddenly felt he would much rather clean more cupboards and classrooms.

Darkness had fallen before Hagrid finally met him just outside his hut. He was carrying a massive crossbow and had Fang with him.

"All right Harry," he said cheerily. "We'll be going into the Forest tonight to check up on some wounded unicorns. Something's been huntin' and killin' them recently."

Harry wondered what could actually kill a unicorn, and who would want to in the first place? It wasn't very reassuring.

"Hagrid, we're going to go in the Forest." He nodded. "Right now." Hagrid nodded again. "Alone and in the middle of the night with a unicorn predator on the loose?" Hagrid nodded thrice.

"Now don't be afraid Harry, there's not anythin' in the Forest that can harm you so long as you have me and Fang with yeh. Come on now."

Harry sighed and followed Hagrid into the forest. He really was reconsidering whether having Hagrid as a friend was at all a wise thing.

The forest was ominous and dancing shadows were being cast by the lamp that bounced off trees and logs and shrubbery and foliage. There was nothing yet, Harry thought twice he detected some kind of movement but there was nothing. Harry tried to reassure himself that he had his cloak to protect him no matter what.

Finally they spotted blood. And they followed that trail for another half hour, winding deeper and deeper into the woods. And then the blood trail split into a fork.

"Right Harry, I'll be taking the right to see where this ends up. You and Fang head to the left and if there's anything you find just send up some red sparks right?"

So Harry and Fang took the left path and they walked. Hagrid had taken the lamp so Harry was using his wand for light, not too much to give himself away and make him a target from far off but just enough to illuminate the next few steps. All the while Fang kept slobbering on his robes.

Then he spotted a unicorn, slumped to the ground, blood pooling from its wound. It was a majestic creature, shining white, noble, dignified even in death. There was no stench at all. Then to Harry's horror out of the shadows came a hooded human-like figure. Harry put out his wand hastily and threw the trusted cloak over himself.

Fang howled and ran in circles attracting the apparent glance of the hooded figure then the mad dog ran away into the forest.

Harry didn't move. He felt his breath caught in his chest as he watched the figure bend down and suck blood straight from the wound. His scar suddenly erupted in pain! It was Voldemort for sure. But why would Voldemort drink unicorn's blood?

Harry stayed for what seemed like an eternity as the hooded figure finally stopped drinking and darted away back into the darkness. After approximately ten minutes more he backed away slowly from the scene and retraced the trail of blood. A safe distance away, he sent up red sparks.

As soon as he got back again to the castle, he snuck out again for the restricted section to find out about the properties of unicorn blood. It confirmed what he had long suspected. Unicorn blood was a means to prolong life, but only for the price of distorting and mutilating one's soul. Apparently Voldemort was drinking the blood to stay alive. Well at the very least it confirmed that he really was here and near the castle and plotting to steal the Philosopher's Stone to gain full immortality and so recover his life and powers.


	23. Chapter 23

Weeks passed. As exams were coming up and as he still had to scrub floors and classrooms for over three hours every night, Harry was spending almost every waking minute doing homework or studying. It was a monotonous life and it really cut short the possibility of doing anything more productive, socializing, or working on his own abilities, or flying.

But one positive note was with relations with his house mates on such a low note, Harry no longer cared if they caught him sitting with muggle borns or students from other houses. He got to spend a lot more time with the likes of Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbot, mostly finishing homework together in the library. They had after all, mostly gotten over the fact that he was from "scary" Slytherin. It had helped that he was no longer on speaking terms with Malfoy or Zabini. And it was a relief too Harry saw that the mirror had been moved and was no longer around to haunt or tempt him.

He and Hermione together quickly became the most sought after first year students for help with work, Hermione in theory and himself for practical magic. Even if most people still regarded Hermione as being annoyingly thorough, and that they were both oddballs and outcasts of their respective Houses. Even still, Harry felt pretty confident with his position in the other Houses, once word got around and people stopped suspecting him so much of having dark tendencies.

It was much needed consolation. Of course he had to sleep in Slytherin house every night, take meals with them, keep up appearances which could be tiring. But if he could build up his reputation in the other houses, surely, eventually it would flow back to Slytherin house too…

Hermione for one had finally gotten over the awkward troll incident that had stopped them from talking comfortably for months. They were comfortable around each other now, most of the time, and he had come to regard her as his closest friend in the castle, not that he had tried particularly hard, and not for lack of trying among his own house mates.

One comfortable evening after his detentions, they were among the last in the library after Neville, Susan, Hannah had departed thanking them.

"You know Harry, I think we should form a certain kind of club of some sort." Hermione said not looking up from her book.

"What kind of a club do you have in mind?"

She threw down her book and faced him her face shining. "I've just had an idea. Hogwarts doesn't have an organization where students can help other students, cross-house I mean. A cross-house fraternity association, both for studies and for socializing generally."

"Well you have to understand, from a Slytherin perspective, my house mates are pretty annoyed at me for doing all this, cause they say I'm just helping the other houses earn more points from professors…"

Hermione made a face. "Stupid Slytherins, I really don't know how you put up with them."

"I'm just going to head to the Restricted Section to get a book. Want me to bring you anything?" He was teasing her because she had been trying to find out how he managed to sneak books without once getting caught.

"No!" Hermione said determinedly before relenting. "Well… okay. Could you find a book on the astronomical effects on numerology? And bring me Advanced Potion Making again…"

Harry grinned, got to his feet and ducked behind a shelf. A minute later he saw Hermione crane her head suspiciously trying to spot him through the shelves but he was already invisible.

When they left the library together shortly before curfew, they suddenly heard a loud bang echo down the corridor. Harry drew his wand and they both froze.

"What was that?" Hermione mouthed.

They were walking slowly towards the source of the noise. Suddenly, Harry saw the silhouette of a turban against the walls and shouted. Alarmed, Hermione turned as well. Then there was a sudden flash of red from behind that caught him and he fell… Before he lost consciousness, Harry blearily saw a second flash and Hermione crying tried to defend herself in vain… and a voice that could only be…


	24. Chapter 24

Harry awoke on the cold stone floor and groggily shook his head. He had been stunned. He knew enough times from experience. Glancing around his heart almost stopped as he saw Quirrel, his purple turban and an arm wrapped around Hermione. He was choking her.

And his wand was pointing straight at her head.

"Professor Quirrel?" Harry tried to keep his voice absolutely surprised as he adjusted his glasses and tapped his pocket surreptitiously but his wand was gone. "We've been kidnapped sir. Someone attacked us from the back!" He tried not to betray a tremor of the voice and so reveal that he cared about Hermione at all.

Quirrel chuckled back at him, seeming surprisingly sane without a single fidget. "Yes I am glad you didn't think it was one of your stupid house mates plotting revenge against you again. And yes I know everyone suspects me, the staff certainly, you most impressively. So no need to pretend and waste everyone's time. But I brought you here for a very specific reason." He gestured around, Harry recognized with a pang the Mirror from the Library. What was it doing here?

"I need you to find the stone for me. Only an innocent can do it, as my master says."

"What are you talking about?"

Quirrel dug his wand deeper into Hermione's throat causing her windpipe to shake uncontrollably. "Stop pretending or she dies."

"Well then," Harry said brazenly his mind at a complete loss, "you should know I don't care about her at all. If you thought you could blackmail me this way or that I didn't know the value of the philosopher's stone then you are sorely mistaken." He almost hitched his voice when he saw Hermione's face turn with fear but his voice held steady.

"You saved her from the troll," Quirrel snarled, "and the dragon incident. I've been watching you. You. Do. Care. Well then, there's just one simple test. AVADA-"

"STOP," he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Okay, you win Quirrel. You win… But I don't know where to find this philosopher's stone or why you might think I do," Harry replied, trying to stall for time. Dumbledore had to be here any minute now. Why had he allowed this to happen? Why hadn't he taken any action against Quirrel? All this time and he had trusted him, trusted that he would have everything under control…

Quirrel laughed, the cold-pitched tones echoing throughout the chamber. It was as if he could read his mind even more effortlessly than the Headmaster. "Dumbledore is currently at the Ministry dealing with a political crisis that I created. He doesn't know where you are. Now, as I said I need you."

"How can I help you find the stone, if even the Dark Lord can't?"

"That's what I'm about to tell you. In front of the mirror now," he gesticulated wildly. "DO IT! You have five seconds to place yourself in front of the mirror and retrieve the Stone. Or she dies."

Hermione shook her head desperately.

"CRUCIO" And Hermione screamed.

"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT," Harry bellowed helplessly tears beginning to overflow. "Stop it Quirrel. STOP IT, I'LL DO IT STOP THE SPELL."

And Quirrel ended it, what had been agony to Harry loosened it's cold grip on his heart. He stepped in front of the mirror shaking, not believing that this was happening. He saw for a moment Quirrel with his wand still pointed at Hermione's skull.

He had expected to see his parents again. But then the mirror showed him exactly how to defeat Quirrel and he watched as he saved Hermione.

"Do it again." This time from a chilling rasp whisper that was certainly not Quirrel's voice.

"CRUCIO" and Hermione's cries of agony echoed through the chamber and Harry clenched his fist and shook his head.

"LOOK IN THE MIRROR BOY AND RETRIEVE THE STONE OR THIS CONTINUES FOR AS LONG AS I LIKE"

Harry hurriedly glanced back at the mirror, confusion mounting, he was desperate. And as the seconds passed, his heart began to break at the sounds of torture and tears began to flow in desperation, he saw his reflection in the mirror wink at him put his hand in his pocket and retrieve a red black stone. It winked again and dropped the dead load into Harry's real pocket.

"GIVE ME THE STONE" Quirrel had lifted the spell. Harry spun around and saw Hermione was nearly unconscious. He lifted his hand to give it to him, unable to fight the despair that was overflowing.

But wait. Cold logic pulled him back. If he gave Quirrel the stone, they would all die anyways. And the mirror…

"No." Harry said determinedly.

"NO! BOY! CRU-"

"Prove yourself to me. Defeat me in a duel," Harry said calmly. "You're a pathetic teacher you know. Defence Against the Dark Arts you say, what a joke. I bet you couldn't even beat me."

Harry had touched a nerve in Quirrel, he could tell. Quirrel swelled with rage and tossed Hermione aside who collapsed onto the floor retching.

"I have powers boy, the Dark Lord has taught me spells of such power that you could not even comprehend!"

"Prove it."

Quirrel snarled, tossed him back his wand, and raised his.

Dragging it out of his pocket, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over himself narrowly avoiding Quirrel's curse and dove straight to Hermione unseen. Quirrel cursing, was still pacing around looking for him firing off curses in random, seemingly unaware that Hermione had vanished behind him as well.

Reneverate, Harry thought hoping and Hermione opened her eyes, her expression wild. Harry shushed her and they moved together.

"Where are you Potter," Quirrel sneered. "You call this real duelling, you pathetic, cowardly… Well you can't hide from me. Homus Revellio!"

Harry's eyes widened at that. He hadn't known that there was such a detection spell…

But it had failed evidently. Quirrel hopped up and down in rage. "How is this possible? Where did… the boy go? Master, help me. Please master."

"Reveal me and I will find him," came that voice again.

Too late for that Harry thought. As Quirrel began to hurriedly unwind his turban, so that was where Voldemort was, Harry fought the pain erupting in his scar and cast a silent stunner from close range. Quirrel crumpled to the floor. It had worked just like he had been shown in the mirror.

He pulled the cloak off them and glanced back at Hermione and saw that she was still shaking uncontrollably but her eyes were clear and defiant.

To be safe then Harry kicked away his wand, bound Quirrel with ropes and silenced him as well.

But unbidden, the purple turban began to slowly unwind by itself, twisting like a snake. And Harry watched in horror as the spirit of Lord Voldemort emerged, no longer physical, a pitch black smoke of hellish horror. Quirrel was dissolving, literally dissolving at his feet.

"Harry Potter," it whispered. He looked up to those red, glittering eyes. Then the spirit plunged in, into his chest, swelling and a dreadful, anguished cry erupted. It was the scream of agony within him, he was blind but Voldemort was within him raging… and screaming in agony as well. Then as his scar exploded, he collapsed onto the floor, he saw blackness come into his vision and he knew no more.


	25. Chapter 25

It was soft, so very soft. And comforting as well.

He could feel himself coming to, but he didn't want to. All this time, and all he wanted to do was be convinced that it had been a dream. A nightmare, nothing more. Then he heard voices.

"How long was she placed under the cruciatus?"

"No more than twenty seconds."

"Then she should be alright. No lasting damage done. Unless it was a particularly strong cruciatus but the nerves don't seem to indicate that that was the case. But it would still have been agony." Harry shifted to a side, trying not to hear… But it was Dumbledore's voice.

Rage suddenly filled him. He opened his eyes and saw the Headmaster seated at the foot of his bed. He immediately grabbed his glasses and put them on. And then confronted him.

"How could this happen?" He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice but it was impossible. "How could you let this happen? In your school!"

Madame Pomfrey came running. "Mr. Potter please, other patients are resting."

Dumbledore raised a hand defensively trying both to calm and reassure him, and he flicked his wand to prevent eavesdroppers.

"I TOLD YOU MONTHS AGO ABOUT MY SUSPICIONS AND YOU DID NOTHING, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! ARE YOU REALLY THAT INSANE OR JUST COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT?"

Ignoring Madame Pomfrey's desperate attempts to shush him, he tried to stand but was overcome by a wave of nausea.

"Mr. Potter! You cannot leave yet, I haven't checked your vitals after what happened…"

"What did happen?" Harry rounded on Dumbledore who was still looking at him somewhat apologetically. "Why am I all weak like this, Quirrel never-"

"Harry, Lord Voldemort tried to kill you after leaving Quirrel's body. Failing that, he fled, or at least that is what Ms. Granger reported."

"YOU NEARLY GOT US BOTH KILLED! You endangered the life of your students! Why-" Harry slowed down and glanced wildly around. At the far end of the Hospital Wing, Hermione was still sleeping.

"Harry, for the sake of Ms. Granger who is still recuperating I bid you please lower your voice. I will try to answer your questions to the best I possibly can and if you wish to rage at me further you may continue to do so from my office."

"Why didn't you do anything about Quirrel?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Firstly Harry, I surmise you know everything about the Mirror of Erised from the chamber having encountered it before."

"How did you know?"

Dumbledore ignored the question. "I suppose I must explain my line of reasoning, in light of all this… The mirror was a trap for Voldemort. The reason why Quirrel kidnapped you and Ms. Granger in the first place is because Voldemort realized that good intentions were necessary to retrieve the stone from the Mirror, which is why I placed it in there in the first place."

"But Quirrel could still have threatened other people to try and retrieve it for him!" Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily.

"As I said the mirror was a trap for Voldemort. All the other obstacles we placed in his way, which you may not have seen, were worthless. The real objective was to allow Quirrel access to the mirror, and using that mirror affect his soul. Since Voldemort was possessing Quirrel this would have allowed his soul to break free from Voldemort's influence…"

"YOU DID THIS ALL TO SAVE QUIRREL'S LIFE?"

Dumbledore raised another hand and Harry reluctantly stopped. "Harry, it is true that those possessed had to be weak and flawed enough to allow themselves to be possessed. But that does not mean Quirrel had to die. I underestimated Voldemort's intellect. I thought he would require more time to look into the mirror to determine its nature and how to defeat its defences. In that intervening time, Quirrel's soul would have been affected by what he saw in the mirror and he would recall himself so to speak. That would have allowed him to fight back against Voldemort's influence."

"But you failed?"

"I failed because Voldemort only needed a fraction of the time to understand the mirror and so there was no opportunity to save Quirrel."

Harry was seriously beginning to get angry again. "But what about your students professor?" he asked mockingly. "I heard Quirrel speak! QUIRREL WASN'T BEING POSSESSED AGAINST HIS WILL! HE WANTED TO BE POSSESSED, HE WAS EVIL, DOWNRIGHT AMBITIOUS AND EVIL!"

"Another mistake of mine I'm afraid. I was fooled based on his odd mannerisms which he didn't have before, that he was being possessed against his will. Another ingenious trick of Voldemort's. As for the kidnapping, I must apologize. I never intended to leave the school defenceless but there was a sudden emergency from the Ministry."

"Well?" Harry demanded.

"I cannot tell you it has not been made public, but I think you have the right to know that insiders were probably responsible for an assassination attempt on the Minister of Magic." Harry snorted. So the Ministry was incompetent as well. What else was new?

"And so in the political uncertainty that followed, my presence was required to bring calm and to provide security, as well as to determine how the attack unfolded. I stayed for two hours, I handed control to Professor McGonagoll…"

"So how come she didn't know?"

"But the Deputy Head master doesn't have access to all the school's instruments that monitor the well-being of students." Dumbledore said somewhat ruefully.

Harry was shaking his head in disbelief at everyone's apparent incompetence. At the very least, the worst hadn't happened. But he would never, ever, trust any of them again. No he could only trust himself, and truth be told he had been foolish. He should have demanded action against Quirrel, an arrest, he should have threatened to reveal everything otherwise as blackmail.

"After I made myself invisible with the cloak, Quirrel couldn't find me, even with magic, though he expected to. Do you know why?"

"Harry your cloak is no ordinary Cloak," said Dumbledore gravely, "it's powers will never fade in time, nor will it ever be vulnerable to spells of detection. And so I repeat my advice from last Christmas."

Use it wisely, Harry thought suddenly aware of the immense value that lay spread out before him. So he had been the one to send him his father's cloak. But why did he have it in his possession in the first place?

"And why couldn't Voldemort kill me, I mean I had no idea how to protect myself against a spirit, apparition or whatever. Was it my mother's sacrifice again?" After Dumbledore answered in the affirmative again, Harry searched deeper in himself willing himself to ask…

"I was reading the old Daily Prophets. And they said you were responsible for placing me with the Dursleys. You wanted to keep me from knowing anything about the magical world until I was of age."

Dumbledore looked uncomfortable. "Harry, I never expected the Dursleys to completely keep you ignorant, but I did think that under the circumstances you were better off being as little exposed to our affairs and the dangers involved in your person. You certainly would have had a more normal childhood this way. "

"What gave you the right to make decisions affecting my life professor? I'm sorry to be rude but no one else in the wizarding world could have taken me?

"Your godfather is in Azkaban for betraying your parents in the first place. He killed another of your parent's friends. Another potential guardian is unfortunately barred from law to adopt. You have no living relatives beside the Dursleys, and that was the best way to keep your mother's sacrifice strong, if you lived with blood relatives from your mother's side."

"But why be so concerned about my safety," Harry questioned again. "After all as you said the Dark Lord is just an apparition now that any skilled wizard could drive away. The sacrifice doesn't help against former death eaters-"

"I placed additional wards around 4 Privet Drive."

"They didn't even tell me how my parents died. I grew up thinking a car crash killed them."

"You only need to return once a summer Harry," Dumbledore said looking more troubled than ever.

Harry left it at that. His head was still spinning from the torrent of information he had just gathered and he wasn't feeling well. Dumbledore left and Madame Pomfrey gave him another sleeping potion. By the time he woke up a second time it was late afternoon and Hermione was awake.


	26. Chapter 26

In the aftermath of his talk with Harry, Dumbledore was feeling restless so he retreated into his office to consult his pensieve and memories again. He knew he had made a tragic mistake and in doing so had exposed a student to harm, Ms. Granger in this case. Of course, this had been in some sense a test for Harry to defeat Quirrel knowing that Quirrel and by extension Voldemort couldn't possibly do him any harm. Firstly because Harry was protected by his mother's sacrifice and secondly because of the prophecy. It foretold that Voldemort must kill Harry or vice versa, and so long as Voldemort hadn't returned to full strength, there was no way he could do so or anyone else for that matter.

So he had considered this to be a perfect occasion to groom Harry into his eventual role in confronting and fighting Voldemort with no real risk attached to his person. In this, he had not foreseen the danger that could be posed to other students. Dumbledore berated himself for his callousness and the older he got, apparently the more used to he became in treating people as mere pawns for the higher powers. This was a habit that he had to keep in check. Poor Ms. Granger, to be exposed to the cruciatus at such a tender age…

Dumbledore was relieved that Harry had seemingly not asked the critical question, why was Voldemort interested in killing him in the first place? Of course, he like any other person simply assumed that he was trying to kill him to avenge his defeat that night when Harry was an infant, or just to prove he could kill him in the first place. As for why Voldemort attacked the Potters in the first place, everyone simply assumed it was because the Potters were prominent resistance fighters against Voldemort. It was a perfect cover for now, and Dumbledore had no intention of disclosing the prophecy to Harry at such a young age, maybe when he was a few years older and more mature, but not just yet.

Back at the hospital wing Harry was sitting next to Hermione and swallowing nervously as she was not looking at him, determinedly. But she was crying or had been, and was still shaking somewhat even after taking a calming draught, a day after the events. Harry simply couldn't guess how she might be taking things. The shock of it all as well as the pain…

"I… I brought you the day's homework, to take your mind off things" he told nonchalantly and she suddenly sat up all business.

But she wouldn't answer his questions and then she closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. Finally…

"That was an invisibility cloak that you used."

"Yes," he showed her, but he didn't tell her all it could do. "It was my father's." He tried to proffer it to her, to show her but she wouldn't turn her head…

"Stay away from me," Hermione suddenly gasped, "every time you get near me something bad happens, a professor does bad things, kidnaps students. The troll…"

"Quirrel was not right, Hermione. I just can't tell you, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean the things I said in the chamber." Then he fled the Hospital Wing as fast as he could. He headed to the nearest washroom and he too began to cry at the horror that he had seen, that he knew she had to experience.

Dumbledore had made him swear not to disclose the existence of the philosopher's stone or the fact that Quirrel had been possessed by Voldemort, to avoid alarming the school. That made him ever more furious with the headmaster, feel ever more hatred for himself, and how he couldn't even explain himself properly to Hermione.

Or course she would be completely dissatisfied with his responses and why she had to suffer through torture in the first place. He would write her a letter in the summer explaining, he couldn't afford to say anything in the castle because he felt sure the Headmaster had ways of finding out. And since not a soul had suspected anything of what transpired, he couldn't even pretend that the leak had originated elsewhere.

But Harry grew even more alarmed when Hermione left the Hospital Wing after several days. There was a difference. He saw it in the classes too. Gone was the enthusiastic girl who always raised her hand, eager to please and impress. Now she sat in the back, her head bowed, scrawling aimlessly. Would she ever recover in time?

He almost laughed at the thought, prior to all this he had been the one encouraging her to change, to be more accommodating… Now all he wanted was the old Hermione back to reassure him that everything was alright.

But she steadfastly would not talk to him and Harry didn't want to force the issue.

Then Harry saw to his enormous relief that Hermione had topped the year for everything except Charms and Transfiguration. DADA exams had been cancelled after Dumbledore announced that Quirrel had been met with an "unfortunate accident" in one of his experiments.

After his encounter with Quirrel, Harry had also been doing some tests on his cloak, and he realized that it was to some extent invulnerable to magic, namely to detection spells that aim to establish where something is, or summoning spells which are predicated on knowing where something is. But direct spells could affect the object in the cloak if it so happens to land where the object and cloak is. He had spent hours transfiguring items hidden invisible underneath the cloak and all the spells had worked. He had also looked up the human detection spell and added it to his repertoire determined not to be ambushed in that way again.

Still, he was ending the year in the worst of spirits, even though Slytherin House had won both the Quidditch and House Cups again. In the last match against Hufflepuff, Higgs had surprisingly missed out on the snitch and so Slytherin lost by sixty points, but since they were so far ahead it didn't really matter. At least that had been what Draco told him afterwards because Harry hadn't felt like attending.

Draco also had apologized to him, half-heartedly and he had decided to accept his apology for now. He really didn't care anymore, it was just a waste of time holding a grudge against Draco Malfoy now that he knew there was a whole horizon of dangers out there.

Throughout the train, Harry was depressed and largely sat alone, away from his house mates, or anyone else for the matter, doing a bit of deep thinking. He came to the conclusion that he simply couldn't afford to waste two months every year without learning magic, and that for survival's sake he would be practicing one way or another. But he had to make absolutely sure that he couldn't be caught. But how?

From Draco's insinuations, he knew that the Trace couldn't really track who had performed the magic, only that it had been performed near an underage wizard. So theoretically he could do it some way, but what if they checked his wand? He couldn't risk expulsion. No, he needed a better plan.

And the scariest thing to take away from all this: since Quirrel had managed to coordinate with insiders from the Ministry in creating a distraction for Dumbledore, Voldemort still retained at least a degree of support where it mattered.

When he stepped off the train heading into the summer, he felt the confusing mix of emotions deepen yet further, for as bad as Hogwarts had been due to recent events, he still very much recoiled at the prospect of living with the Dursleys again in a non-magical environment.

Suddenly he felt himself missing it even more and he wished he were back there when just hours before he had wanted to leave and never return. The Dursleys weren't at the Platform and Harry scrambled back on the train before it left to charm his trunk feather light before the use of magic could be counted against him. He then made his way back into the Muggle World looking for a place to buy a bus ticket.

END OF YEAR ONE


	27. Chapter 27

"I want you in your room for the duration of the dinner. I know it's your birthday, but this is of vast importance, vital importance to my career, to our prospects. Now your aunt and I bought this for you…"

Harry glanced down, it was a pair of winter boots.

"And so you'll have to eat beforehand too and not a sound boy…"

"Uncle," Harry interrupted. "Don't you think it would really impress them if you could showcase the nephew orphan that you so generously raised as your own and alongside your own son?"

Uncle Vernon's eyebrows shot up.

"No funny stuff boy, not one abnormality or I will be beyond angry."

"Rest easy uncle," Harry assured him trying not to laugh. "I've been learning how to control my… abilities for over a year now. And besides, it's just dinner. What could go wrong?"

"But do you have anything to wear?"

Harry reached over the side of his trunk and pulled out a Muggle suit. The Dursleys had been very suspicious when he turned up for the summer with a full, decent wardrobe and hadn't really believed his assertion that it was part of the scholarship. But then he had just told them it was magic and it shut them up. But then they locked away everything he had, except his wand and cloak which he kept hidden inside an extension-charmed pocket.

So all through dinner, Harry sat with them and with his example, even Dudley couldn't completely forget his table manners, much to Uncle Vernon's relief. The adults chatted about drills, and the news, and the weather, and golf, and…

The guests turned to him only once, and as he was playing the poor orphan so they asked him where he was attending school?

Harry smiled as charming as he could back. "I received a scholarship to attend a boarding school in Scotland. It's wonderful, beside a great lake and forest, with extensive grounds and near a village. I was just ecstatic when I found out I'd been accepted. And it's all thanks to my aunt and uncle that I was able to go!"

Best of all, the only thing he really cared about was the food that was really good. Aunt Petunia had really outdone herself. The kidney pie, the strawberry pudding, it was almost as good as the fare served at Hogwarts feasts.

Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. His cousin was still eating and his aunt and uncle were talking with the guests. He daydreamed. He was flying on a broom, flying in and out Quidditch hoops…

A flying cake?

Harry sat up, bolt right and then avoided its gaze as he didn't want anyone to see where he had been looking at. Too late, his cousin in that very moment had caught his eye and turned his head. And then he gawked.

Harry put a finger to his lips and Dudley nodded, looking terribly afraid. He had been teasing him all summer after all by pretending he could do magic outside of school. Now his worst fears had been realized. Dudley Dursley clenched his eyes shut.

His aunt had noticed. "Darling is there something wrong, would you like another slice of kidney pie?" She placed a hand on his forehead feeling for his temperature. All the time the cake was drifting ever closer. And closer. To Mr. X's head.

He concentrated, focused, and just as the cake was beginning to tip he snapped his fingers under his table, mouthing wordlessly.

The cake vanished.

A single whip of cream was all he missed and it painted Mr. X's shoulder but he hadn't noticed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He suddenly excused himself and went out of the dining room scouting around, his wand drawn, but there wasn't anyone in sight. Of course they could just be invisible as he couldn't employ magical detection. But there was no helping that.

When he returned, Dudley was still staring at him, utterly amazed. Harry was just praying the Ministry wouldn't be so efficient in running things and he went across the room and whispered in his aunt's ear. His aunt's face grew deathly pale and she looked furiously at him, then she announced in a high, bright, false voice, "shall we retire to the lounge then? The children can remain here to amuse themselves…"

When they had left, two hundred seconds, Harry had been counting. Meanwhile Dudley had returned to his pie, the moment of astonishment gone. He was staring out at the window and sure enough an owl was flying, he opened the window just in the nick of time for a letter to fall in. He ran pell-mell up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom.

Harry listened as fast as he could, skimming over the details, ya di da, hover charm and a vanishing spell was used in the proximity of Muggles, serious nature of this offence, you have been asked to attend a hearing on the reasonable underage restriction of sorcery ect) The howler then self-destructed while he sat on the toilet.

Well they couldn't pin him down that was for sure. He hadn't used his wand, and he knew the law. Only if the magic coincided with Muggles being hurt would veritaseum be used. But it was very interesting to note that a hover charm had been used. Just who had been in the house just now that could employ magic? And why play this sort of prank on him? Harry wasn't too worried, well he was because clearly the wards had failed, but if the person in question really wanted to harm him he was sure more magic would have been performed than a mere hovering charm.

It just left him feeling confused again. Maybe it was a stupid prank played by Malfoy to get him expelled or something.

But the evening hadn't gone to waste. Thirty minutes later, Vernon Dursley had signed the deal and Mr. and Mrs. X were out the door. Crowing with triumph, his uncle skipped across the kitchen dancing to Harry's utter astonishment.

But more importantly, he had gotten what he needed. At long last, with Iolanthe his owl freed from her cage, during the nights at least, he could finally write a letter to Hermione.


	28. Chapter 28

Harry had written to Hermione explaining about Quirrel being possessed by Voldemort and the value of the philosopher's stone and could only hope that she would believe him. He also detailed much of what Dumbledore had told him, including the fact that the stone was now to be destroyed. As Iolanthe had been locked up in her cage for the entire summer so far, he hadn't been able to send anything. Nor did he know her address or telephone number to contact her.

Though now that the dinner party had successfully gone as planned without a hitch, Iolanthe was free to hunt every night and so he could send the letter. And he needed to, for his own mental sake, he still hadn't gotten over the fact that she had been tortured and was hearing it in his sleep even. He needed some kind of reassurance from her.

But he hadn't receive a response.

For weeks now, Harry had been making a daily trip to London where he would rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the day and just practice wandless magic. He had realized that there was no loophole to be exploited to practice magic with his wand, so he had decided to devote every hour he could spare on the task. On the average day, it was 90 minute commute to London, 3 hours total to and back. He usually spent about two hours just wandering Diagon Alley and learning more about the wizarding world, perusing wares and intriguing magical objects, chatting with storekeepers, eating lunch and occasionally meeting someone he recognized from Hogwarts. That left about four hours daily of wandless magic before he returned to Privet Drive in time for dinner.

He had been surprised how easy it had been. From what he had read before hand, few wizards and witches could perform the deed, even fewer perform it well. But after initial struggles… it had gone just about as easily as if he had been learning the spells for the first time with his wand. As it was, Harry moved quickly from the basic spells of his year curriculum into the more advanced ones that he had personally looked up and researched.

Perhaps it had something to do with his control of underage magic, which he could still do, kind of. But that ability was quickly wearing off him as he became used to wand magic. That too was natural, it was now like a reflex, half-remembered, but grown increasingly unfamiliar…. But there were insights to be gleaned from controlled underage magic that could be applied to this…

About two weeks into this self-imposed schedule, a team of ministry officials turned up suspicious. They were suspicious apparently because magic had been repeatedly used in the presence of someone underaged for hours (and the same repertoire of spells too), and it just wasn't normal that a kid would stay in the Leaky Cauldron for hours instead of heading out to Diagon Alley. Their intuition was absolutely correct. After they had rounded up all the minors, they confiscated all the wands but found nothing. Then they left fuming, complaining about time-wasters and paranoid bosses.

So sometimes Harry would put on his invisibility cloak and head outside to play instead.

Harry's motivation for all this work was quite simple. He couldn't exactly just slack off and enjoy the summer like any other kid. No, Voldemort was after him and apparently couldn't even be killed if his apparition had anything to say about it. He knew that very well and he didn't want to die. Thus he couldn't afford to waste his time now that he realized Voldemort could potentially be resurrected by magical means such as the Stone. And if there was one way of doing it, there had to be another. The prospect left him feeling constantly anxious and traumatized from their encounter. He still remembered those glittering red orbs for eyes.

But he really wasn't sure how much an asset wandless magic would be, because it was noticeably weaker, slower to cast, and harder to aim. But he simply just had to be seen doing something or else he would go mad with frustration and restlessness. At the very least it had been his good luck that he had been practicing vanishing objects wandlessly for the past few days.

So the next day was the Ministry hearing. Harry did wonder whether he was pushing his luck and that maybe the Ministry would be competent enough to see a connection between that incident and the ones he had been formally charged with. Namely wandless magic. He doubted it though.

And then he also worried about the mysterious caster of the hover charm who had apparently infiltrated the house successfully. It could have been meant as a threat, well it was ominous now that he thought about it. Harry went to bed his head full of questions.

The next day, Mrs. Figg came over and rang the doorbell. Harry had asked her if she would be so kind as to escort him to the Ministry, since he had never been. Per Mrs. Figg's instruction, Harry stuck his wand out in the curb as soon as they left the house.

And was knocked off his feet as a gigantic red two story bus materialized out of nothing and a gregarious conductor named Stan Shunpike helped them onboard.

So he could take the knight bus and chop off two and half hours commute every single day? Harry felt like killing someone, why hadn't anyone told him earlier? Meanwhile Mrs. Figg was muttering the whole way about how she was not going to like this at all, not one bit.

Inside was an exemplary example of the space enlargement charm that he had some experience with, because large though the bus seemed from the outside, it could easily seat ten times the number from the inside… Though it was largely empty at this time, save for a few elderly witches and wizards, Harry assumed that most would simply apparate or floo.

The bus took off like a rocket, blasting Harry out of his cot, the cots slammed together like bumper cars. Harry stared outside mesmerized at the speed and the adroitness at which the bus could slip past the narrow lanes and tight spaces, jumping up and above traffic, twisting and distorting itself whenever necessary. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine the amount of charmwork that was necessary…

The more he learned about magic, the more he found that he had been taking taking the magical world for granted, now that he understood more of the logic underlying the magical wonders and his mind would work away at the implications. The perfect example of this, of course, was Hogwarts castle itself.

When they stepped off the bus, Harry was surprised to find himself in Whitehall, essentially the seat of the Muggle government. How could they possibly keep it a secret in such a prominent location?

Mrs. Figg frowned and consulted her guidebook. "This way Harry," and she finally led him to a telephone booth. "Inside now."

They squeezed in together. Mrs. Figg began dialling, all the while consulting her book, very slowly and carefully. There was a shudder and they descended into subterranean depths.

"I've only been here once you know," Mrs. Figg confessed, "and that was decades ago mind. Now, I can't believe the charges against you Harry, it's absurd that you would be casting these simple spells all around the house when you know the rules and knowing the Dursleys…" and she rambled on.

"But don't worry, these charges aren't grounds to expel anybody on."

Harry was looking goggle-eyed as witches and wizards rushed past him on their way to work and was feeling cynical. Given that he estimated the entire wizarding population at roughly ten thousand, the fact that hundreds were being employed here was probably evidence of corruption and extreme inefficiency, if indeed the Ministry was the biggest employer in the wizarding economy, able to hand out perk jobs to purebloods from prominent families. He was pretty sure that while enforcing the statute of secrecy was a tough job, and that witches and wizards had a much easier time about it knowing magic, all these hands on ship were essentially unnecessary and was simply a case of dividing the spoils in the form of an overstaffed bureaucracy especially since Wizarding Britain was at peace.

Harry recoiled in disgust further at the sight of the fountain where a masculine witch and his (secondary) companion the witch stood with raised wands and magnificent expressions while the house elf, goblin, gazed rapturously up above them from below. It was revolting and said a lot about the Ministry's worldview. And by extension the wizarding public, since they elected the Minister of Magic. It was then no wonder even a madman like Voldemort was able to find a degree of support.

They entered the lift with several employees, none of which paid them the slightest attention and pressed for level two and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

A cool female voice greeted them. The Improper Use of Magic Office, it announced and they left.

A bored looking receptionist looked up from the desk. "Have the two of you completed wand registration yet?"

Mrs. Figg confirmed she was a squib and the receptionist took ten minutes to confirm this on the record which annoyed Harry. He then held out a palm and Harry dropped his wand.

He examined it for half a minute and then dropped it eyes bulging.

"Elder, 13 inches, phoenix feather core," he said shakily holding the script.

"Yes," Harry confirmed.

The receptionist handed it back to him in a hurry as if it were a cursed object and Harry suppressed a grin. He had heard all sorts of nonsense about how elder was unlucky and thirteen even more so.

"You have a hearing with Amelia Bones head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, five minutes, office 207. Good day to you both."

Five minutes later Harry was seated alone in the office while Mrs. Figg wanted to return home early as she was nursing one of her cats suffering from food poisoning. Harry assured her he knew the way back to Surrey via the Knight Bus.

Finally, Madam Bones entered her office. She looked remarkably like Susan, a much older version of course. "You're Susan's auntie? I remember she mentioned having her aunt working in the Ministry…"

"No pleasantries today Mr. Potter, this is your disciplinary hearing," Madam Bones looked at him grimly. "First of all, did you perform the spells in question that you have been charged?"

He decided to risk it. After all, he wanted to continue practicing wandless magic and even if Bones was a legilimens she couldn't well justify invading his mind and so she couldn't use it as evidence against him.

"No. At least not that I know of."

"No Muggles were alerted, that's the most important thing I suppose. Nevertheless I need to inspect your wand."

He handed it over and watched as she performed the priori incantatum. Sure enough the last spell he had cast was to charm his trunk feather-light on the train. Madam Bones frowned and turned to him again.

"Did you see anything? How the spells were performed?"

"Well basically we were at dinner and my uncle was meeting a business associate and then I saw a cake floating. That I suppose was the hovering charm. And I was nervous of course because it looked like it was on the verge of falling onto someone's head. And then it vanished."

"But you didn't do anything?"

"No," Harry lied, "I mean I did sort of wish it, that it would disappear and I was really relieved after it did, but I don't think I did anything, I mean, I would know wouldn't I?"

Madam Bones considered him for a few seconds and then her expression softened. "It's not accidental magic because the Trace clearly picked out a specific spell. Nevertheless I would like to send a few Ministry employees to your aunt and uncle's place just to check on the magical defences and how anyone might be able to break them."

"I think you should write to Dumbledore," Harry suggested. "I hear he was involved in that. And also I'll need to tell my aunt and uncle first, but they definitely won't be happy. They don't like interacting with witches and wizards at all."

Madam Bones nodded, looking somewhat more sympathetic, and resumed writing. Finally she pushed the piece of parchment in front of Harry.

"I'm clearing you of all charges as there is no evidence against you," she scrutinized him again, "but I do feel that there's more to the story than you're letting on. Perhaps you have a second wand hidden somewhere. But for a relatively minor charge as this, especially since no muggles were alerted, I've decided not to investigate further."

Harry inwardly smiled. He had been counting on the Ministry having other, more serious priorities. Thankfully no one had thought to cross check with the incident at the Leaky Cauldron either.

"Thanks for hearing me out Madam Bones. I suppose I should feel lucky that nobody came to snap my wand right away."

"Usually that is the policy for repeat offenders," Madam Bones said stiffly. "But since the two spells were performed in quick consecutive moments we decided a hearing would be sufficient. You may go."


	29. Chapter 29

"Potter!"

Harry turned his head in the crowd and heard the shout from behind. Ten seconds later, he spotted Draco Malfoy making his way through the crowd which parted for him naturally when they saw who he was. "Why haven't you been writing back to me all summer? I even invited you to our Manor but I didn't get a response."

"You've been writing to me?" Harry asked blankly confused.

"Yes, anyways, what are you doing here at the Ministry? My father is head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and he was just introducing a contingent from Brazil… do you want to meet them? I mean… wait what are you doing here?"

"I had a hearing," he said shortly, "uh, the Ministry accidentally thought that I performed magic out of school because probably some witch or wizard stopped by the Muggle neighbourhood that I live…" Malfoy's nostrils curled in disgust.

"I almost forgot you were brought up by Muggle relatives," he snickered, "I feel its almost my duty to rescue you from them. Anyway want to come and play quidditch? My father is gifting Slytherin house seven of the newest Nimbus 2001s and I've been inviting other prospective fliers so we can practice together. Want to come?"

Not wanting to return to the Dursleys so early, Harry thought it might be best to put wandless magic aside for awhile since he didn't want to push his luck. Although he definitely didn't trust the Malfoy family who doubtless still had sympathetic ties with Voldemort, he thought it was very unlikely that they would try anything when Voldemort's position was still so weak as Dumbledore had said.

"Sure," he said.

Emerging from the floo, Harry could see why the Malfoys were considered to be far and away the wealthiest wizarding family in Britain. Their manor itself was opulent, three stories with probably a dozen bedrooms and a drawing room that could seat nearly a hundred. A corridor of mirrors and portraits of Malfoy ancestors who glared down at him. Outside which they went, the grounds were impressive, nowhere near the size of Hogwarts of course, but Harry could make out a truncated third of a Quidditch field ahead with hoops about half the standard height. Malfoy strolled about the grounds confidently as he owned the place, just like he did back in Hogwarts Harry could see. He could understand somewhat now, how growing up in this fantastic atmosphere of wealth and privilege had shaped the person Malfoy had become.

Malfoy kicked off about a kilometre away and Harry followed, not sure whether they might risk breaking the Statute. By gazing around from the air Harry could see more clearly the extent of the place and it was massive, easily a major parcel of prime real estate fit for any bumbling aristocrat. There wasn't Muggle village or settlement in sight, not even agricultural fields.

Much of it was empty but Harry spotted a hedge maze with fountains and a gravel road that led past a pair of cast-iron gates and towards the manor. Turning back towards the pitch, he accelerated to follow Draco feeling out the broom's aerodynamics and becoming ever more impressed. It was so light and easy to handle, nothing like the cumbersome Shooting Stars and Harry had to take several minutes to get used to the broom's agility so he would not overshoot.

Malfoy already had the Quaffle in his hands that he had taken up from the crate and he tossed it to Harry who performed a sloth-grip roll to catch it.

Passing and throwing were things he had to work on because in terms of flying skills, he apparently had it all already. Fifteen minutes later, he still retained easy possession of the Quaffle, Malfoy could in no way even come close to him before he shook him off with another manoeuvre or feint or misdirection.

Malfoy played keeper for awhile and he was so terrible that they soon had to switch. Harry wasn't much better, namely due to lack of experience yet he performed well during exercises where he would try to head off Malfoy before he entered the penalty zone.

Harry gradually got the knack of dispossessing his opponent, taking advantage of superior flying skills to swoop around their blind spot, easily shaking off efforts they made to throw him off and then accelerating suddenly to punch their Quaffle away with tremendous accuracy. He also became good at an unconventional kind of marking, not the obstructive kind that deterred the player from flying where he or she wished, but the opportunist type that made the opponent nervous enough not to fly well because he or she could never know what move he would pull off next to try and steal the Quaffle.

At goalscoring, Harry chose the method of faking shots to confuse the keeper and send him shooting off in the wrong direction, although this was perhaps only due to Malfoy's terrible Keeper skills. It again also served well to keep his opponent off-balance and was a psychological advantage against keepers who could never predict what he would do as he had superior composure and could easily change and shift tactics

That was the key thing really. The more comfortable you were on the broom the more time you could devote your mind to analyzing the state of the game and tactics, to note your opponent's weaknesses, to consciously be able to make decisions…

However passing accuracy was still his weak point, especially with his left hand.

Malfoy finally let out the snitch after deferring awhile and Harry could tell it was because he had previously before, failed to find it for a long time whilst playing and he didn't want to be embarrassed in front of anyone. Smirking inside, he bit back a retort questioning Malfoy's fitness to be Seeker since he was after all a guest.

So he and Malfoy squared off, looking for the snitch and competing to do so. Harry deliberately gave Malfoy a two minute grace period even though he could usually easily spot the snitch within the span of less than a minute on the much smaller miniature pitch with no other distracting balls and fliers around. He also soon realized he had the ability to beat Malfoy to basically any snitch, unless he really was halfway on the other side of the pitch but out of politeness again, Harry let him win about four in every ten tries. Malfoy was very competitive, he was blowing hard, his face red, but he hadn't noticed anything.


	30. Chapter 30

About an hour into their game, a few fellow Slytherins joined them including Warrington the beater and Pucey who played Chaser. The game quickly grew more challenging as Harry faced more experienced players but he got better the longer he played and became more suited to the chaser role. Evidently none of them had realized that it was essentially his first time really playing chaser, being so proficient, they thought he had plenty of experience beforehand.

After the game they went to the neighbouring outhouse to wash, that also doubled for showers and a changing room. As it had been quite tiring and intense, Draco led them all to the lawn where they reclined comfortably on lawn chairs and struck up a conversation of Quidditch tactics, Harry mostly listened as he was still learning.

"Dobby," Malfoy said, and a second later there was a loud crack and a creature like large tennis-ball sized eyes, pointed ears wearing a filthy pillowcase materialized out of nowhere. " Bring us two butterbeers and two fire whiskeys and a platter of cauldron cakes."

Dobby immediately disappeared again but not before Harry had seen the creature take a side glance towards him. Did his fame apparently extend to even the house elves as well?

Three seconds later, Dobby had reappeared with another crack totting a tray and their drinks which they took.

"A table," Malfoy snarled, and whispering desperate apologies the house elf vanished again before coming to again hoisting a small marble pedestal on his back. Harry was surprised at the apparent strength of such a frail creature. After Dobby set it down, Malfoy gave him a casual smack in the face that drew snickers from Warrington and Pucey before Dobby disapparated again pleading his apologies.

"Anyway, Draco tells us you've been mingling with blood traitors and Mudbloods Potter," Pucey said sneeringly after he had taken a long draught of his firewhiskey. "If you know what's good for you and the House you would stay away from them, no matter how they appear. I know you've told us that they're useful to exploit, but there's a difference anyways between that and apparently befriending them. You're giving Slytherin House a bad name regardless of your intentions."

Warrington agreed. "They have to know their place and your befriending them makes them forget that fact."

"Well personally," Harry said, "I find that I can accomplish much more from cooperation when the other houses feel like I'm treating them fairly. That way, they become much more accepting of their place in the hierarchy if you give them some perks and respect, while at the same time withholding some and inspiring awe."

Draco cleared his throat and they all fell silent. "I think there should be a balance to it. Potter can be the outreach, the carrot for the other Houses, he's the most agreeable figure in our House to the rest of the houses. While we can be sticks. Two methods of intimidation and outreach. They would be more effective if used together.

Harry almost snorted at that. Intimidation? The other Houses weren't just intimidated by Slytherin, they considered Slytherin an aberration which was why they all banded together. Intimidation would only strengthen their resistance. However they were soon back on the topic of Quidditch.

"With me as Seeker, Flint, Pucey and Potter as the new triad of chasers plus the new brooms we should outscore any opposition," Draco continued, "So here's to Slytherin. Power and glory."

"To Slytherin," all said and they clinked glasses.

Pucey and Warrington soon left after that, and Draco led Harry back inside the Manor to meet his mother who had just returned as Dobby informed them, shooting another surreptitious glance towards Harry before disapparating.

"Potter, my mother, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black."

Harry was taken aback as she surveyed him and felt quite self conscious after that moment. Draco's mother was an imperious woman, harsh in demeanour but refined in features and dress. Harry could tell she was judging them and tried his best to convey a confident first appearance.

"Pleased to meet you Mrs. Malfoy." They shook hands. Narcissa seemed at a loss to speak at first, and Harry sensed that she was already mentally berating Draco for inviting him here in the first place.

"Welcome to our home, Mr. Potter." And she gestured around in the sitting room. "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable with some refreshments." Dobby came as soon as she said that with another platter of biscuits and honeyduke sweets as well. Harry could see she was shooting him shrewd glances in the corner of her eye as he accepted some pumpkin juice.

"It's a very beautiful and magnificent manor that you have here, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry complimented. "So full of history and tradition."

Narcissa raised half an eyebrow. "Indeed the land that the manor has been built on has been in this family's keeping for a thousand years since the Norman invasion."

"But the manor itself is about two centuries old," Draco chipped in.

"The Potters had a country home in Gloucestershire too, near the border with Wales," Narcissa informed him. "It was their ancestral home, but tragically destroyed during the First Wizarding War."

Harry felt a renewed surge of hatred but kept his face utterly calm. So she was threatening him trying to best his temper was she? He wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of knowing he cared.

At that moment however an owl fluttered in from one of the open panels and dropped a letter that Narcissa snatched from the air. "I'm sorry love," she said and Harry was surprised that she could make such a sudden jump to tender tones before she kissed Draco on the cheek. "Your father calls from the Ministry but I'll be back before supper."

With a last wave to her son and a nod towards Harry, Narcissa disapparated. Harry glanced at Draco bemused, and he gave him another resigned, embarrassed look back. However Harry felt that Draco never fully appreciated the value of his mother's affection as he never seemed to lack anything in his life.

Draco then showed Harry his personal alchemy lab and Harry noted that Draco seemed to genuinely enjoy his hobby of studying the property of metals and their transmutation, he complained endlessly about Hogwarts not offering the class anymore as they had done during his parents' days at school and bragged about how he would top anyone in the subject, "even mudblood Granger."

"Hogwarts just doesn't show any more respect to the old, traditional arts, I mean like Alchemy, Magical Art, for example. Just because it has no practical purposes in magical careers doesn't mean they shouldn't be taught at all. It's all to do with the new mudbloods demanding that more and more time be devoted on so-called practical subjects. Money! That's all they ever think about those grubby initiates of magical society… And don't even get me started on Binns' sanitized version of magical history!"

Harry had to bite back a retort that evidently not everyone was so fortunate as to pursue their own personal interests like Draco and himself who possessed significant inherited wealth. But he quickly came to the conclusion that Draco was too entrenched to have a proper discussion over the matter.

As Harry excused himself to use the loo however, he was surprised as soon as he locked the door there was another crack, and Dobby the House elf who had been shooting quick glances at him all afternoon materialized in front of him.

"Harry Potter," it whispered in low tones. "Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts sir, there's a plot, a terrible plot being hatched that I…"

Dobby suddenly hit himself on the marble counter and let out a yelp.

Harry was quite startled. "What on earth are you doing Dobby?"

"Dobby must punish himself sir. Master said.."

Harry forestalled another of the elf's attempt at self harm by grabbing him up by the pillowcase and cast a Muffliato in case Draco was overhearing as he knew he was safe being inside a wizarding home. "Dobby, speak clearly, what sort of plot do you mean? Does it have anything to do with Voldemort? Do you know Voldemort?"

Dobby bowed his head. The elf tried to speak but no words would come out, his tongue seemed tied and would not move. Finally…

"Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts for he will be in grave danger! Dobby must do all he can to stop him! Dobby must go sir. Master calls." And he disapparated to leave Harry holding on to thin air.


	31. Chapter 31

Dobby's warning was still occupying his mind as he returned to Privet Drive in the evening and he was split in how he ought to act. Chiefly it was whether to determine whether the warning could be considered credible since house elves normally did not act on their own initiative, and if it was something that had to do with Voldemort surely the Malfoys would have prevented Dobby from informing him.

Then it could be a trick to get him to overreact and possibly Dumbledore as well, to discredit him. Or perhaps it was an attempt at intimidation set up by the Malfoys, but ultimately an empty threat. House elves did not lie on their own initiative, so Harry discounted the possibility that Dobby was simply venting frustration at him the guest, for how he had been treated by the Draco that day. But upon further consideration, it did seem like Dobby received regular punishment given how eager he had been to bash his head on the marble sink.

That alone was prompting Harry into thinking Dobby had been deliberately disobeying the orders of the Malfoys. That instinct to punish themselves for disobeying direct orders simply couldn't be faked. Which would mean the Malfoys were directly involved, in this plot or whatever.

But then again it was rare, unheard of even, for a house elf to disobey orders because he wanted to disobey orders. Dobby had seemed utterly sincere however and the amount of deception that would have been necessary to fake that sincerity, even if Malfoy had ordered him to try, Harry thought was beyond the capability of house elves. That was why Harry reasoned that Dobby was probably trustworthy.

So now whether or not to inform Dumbledore? Normally he would not have hesitated to do so, since it was a security matter affecting students, at the very least Harry himself. But Harry's trust in Dumbledore had been badly frayed since the debacle concerning Quirrel and he was sorely tempted to withhold information. But ultimately he saw that keeping Dumbledore out of the loop would not help him in any way to act and there was no doubting Dumbledore was a far more capable and informed wizard than he was, or would be for probably years at least. So he wrote a simple letter, detailing generally the very vague warning that Dobby, the Malfoys' house elf had apparently confessed on his own initiative. He also asked for the booklist to be sent again because it was past the date and he had obviously missed it.

Two weeks left before September the First though, Harry had still not received a single letter from Hogwarts with the details of the second year. And he had written innocuous requests to Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott asking for the details after Dumbledore had failed to reply again, but no one was sending him anything. His recently subscribed Daily Prophet also wasn't arriving. That led Harry to the suspicion that all his letters were being intercepted. Harry however had no idea how he could check for such a peculiar ward, and of course he couldn't use magic.

So a week before term he headed to Flourish and Botts to buy the books anyway. It had been easy to guess that Lockhart books would be required as he was apparently the new DADA professor but reading a few sample pages had left Harry gagging that he decided not to waste money.

It was quite clear that Lockhart's books whilst sometimes informative, were obviously based on secondary sources from the way his "personal" accounts were so clearly constructed around the information rather than Lockhart learning anything from his accounts because the tone made it quite clear that Lockhart knew all of this already. But if he had known beforehand, why did he say all his knowledge had been obtained by his personal, first-hand, daring experiences?

Lockhart had gone to great lengths to deliberately add detail and facts on top of his stories rather than such stories revealing to readers where he had learnt his stuff, which meant that his stories were probably made up and that hadn't been where he obtained his information. Which meant that not only were the accounts made up, the information was plagiarized because Lockhart hadn't provided any sources.

Also Harry objected to sensationalist rhetoric when it was supposed to be academic writing. Upon asking, he found to the best of the bookstore's knowledge only Standard Book of Spells Grade Two was required apart from the Lockhart books. It made sense, because there was still a considerable amount in their books that they hadn't covered last year.

Upon exiting, he ran into Neville Longbottom and his rather fearsome grandmother. Neville was licking a strawberry ice cream cone at the moment and looked somewhat embarrassed to be encountering Harry Potter in such a state.

"Hello Neville," Harry said pleasantly. He knew always to avoid using Longbottom's surname even though the two weren't really close because of the complications of referring to his parents.

Neville seemed unsure how to reply and glanced up at his Grandmother who was fixing a beady stare at him. For such an old lady, Harry thought it strange that Neville's grandmother apparently liked mixing wizarding fashions with female Muggle kinds as judging from her handbag.

"Mr. Potter" she shook his hand gruffly, "it's good to be meeting you in person at last. Please call me Augusta."

"You won't believe what the papers having been writing about you," Neville said suddenly, "ever since you were sorted into Slytherin House anyways. I mean, I just got around to reading the Daily Prophet in the summer…" Harry informed Neville of his predicament, and upon being asked to see the booklist, Neville handed it over so Harry could confirm he hadn't missed anything.

"Hmph! I've never heard of a case in all my years of somebody not getting their letters on time, even if they're out of the country. But my grandson has mentioned in the passing that you help him sometimes with his schoolwork, and for that I am grateful." She was not exactly terribly proud of her grandson, he noticed. "Neville's a good boy, but he hasn't got his parents' talent I'm afraid."

"Well Neville sometimes helps me back in Herbology," Harry suggested as he felt Neville's ego really did need the boost. However praise seemed to make Neville shrink down even further and he was deliberately avoiding meeting his eye. Harry immediately understood that Neville felt even more intimidated in front of his grandmother who must have been very strict, and that she was probably responsible for much of Neville's lack of self esteem.

Augusta Longbottom dismissed that line of thought about the value of Herbology and turned back to questioning Harry. "My daughter in law, Alice was close friends with your mother from school." Harry listened closely. "And Alice was your godmother, but after what happened… well I offered to take you in as a baby but Dumbledore insisted that you were better off with your mother's relatives."

"Augusta, I really think Neville needs a new wand," Harry interrupted changing the topic and Neville gestured frantically, desperately at him to stop. "At school, I noticed that one reason he was under-performing was because he didn't have a compatible wand…"

"What's this, Neville? Why didn't you tell me you were having problems working with your wand at school." Neville suddenly burst into tears and Harry understood that as well. Using his father's wand was one way of honouring his parents and feeling close to them and his father's wand had rejected him. It was cruel but it had to be done, for Neville's own sake.

"Well we are going to Ollivander's straight away. It was nice to converse with you Mr. Potter.

"Call me Harry." He shook hands with her again and avoided looking at Neville, said casually, "See you on September the first." The odd pair, grandmother and grandson walked away into the crowd and Harry departed as well, feeling more troubled than before.


	32. Chapter 32

The bus he had been waiting for was late by fifteen minutes. Then the Tube broke down and there was a further twenty minute delay. By the time he reached the platform there were only a few minutes remaining and Harry was running with the trolley dangerously because he didn't want to miss the train. He had never heard of such a perfect storm of misfortunes that would cause someone leaving perfectly on time to be quite possibly late.

He spotted 9 and 10 ahead and raced forwards. It was clear of muggles…

The resultant crash turned every head, magical gateway be damned. At first, Harry was thinking that he was too late, but there were still five minutes to eleven and behind him he could still see the Weasley twins and Ron Weasley in the distance. There was a Slytherin, slightly older than he was who had been waiting for his turn. The boy couldn't believe it either but marched forward to examine the barrier.

"Oi," said one of the twins who had caught up, "what's going on you two slimy snakes?"

Harry was still getting to his feet, picking up Iolanthe's cage and his trunk and trying to avoid the stares of too many muggles. Even muggle repellant charms had their limits. And he was bruised all over.

"The barrier's sealed itself," Harry told the twins and Ron, whose mouth dropped open.

"Impossible."

"Preposterous. You must have done something wrong."

"There's nothing you need to do," Harry reminded them, "it's suppose to let you in if you just walk directly into it."

The Weasleys tried themselves but the barrier was definitely solid.

"What are we going to do?" cried a hysterical Ron Weasley, "we missed the train." And indeed the clock had passed eleven.

"This is all you fault," Ron accused Harry, "you must have done something to cause the barrier to close because it was working just fine until you tried it."

"Now now Ronnie Bumpkins," said one of the twins, "you really think Harry here wanted to close the barrier so he would miss the train himself?"

"No I-"

"Well if it was only a mistake then there's no need to blame Harry here," said one of the twins disapprovingly. "The question is what now?"

"I'll send a letter to Dumbledore with my owl," Harry said resignedly. The Slytherin boy who introduced himself as Harper agreed but seemed reluctant to join in any conversation, with what he probably regarded as blood traitors. "Wait, I just have to grab my quill…"

"Wait, but there's no fun in just following the rules and being sensible about things. I've got an idea."

"We can take the flying car!"

Both of the twins smacked their foreheads and then smacked their younger brother in the head. "Ron you're an idiot, I think we haven't reminded you enough times in your childhood." Ron's face suddenly turned an ashen grey with the realization of what he had revealed.

"We'll just be going now," said one of the twins to both Harper and Harry. "Forgive my younger brother here for his imaginative delusions. We just have to inform our parents first of what just happened and how we can't get on the train."

Harry couldn't help himself. 'Bit sensible for the likes of you two don't you think?"

"Eh?"

"What happened to that great plan of yours then?"

"It's still on, not that we'd tell you. Ruin the surprise. But we have to leave now."

"Let me ask you Weasleys have you ever flown your car from London to Scotland before?" Harry inquired with mock interest.

The twins gulped. And then they looked quickly to Harper who was happily gloating at them. Harry grinned evilly too. He knew Ron's father worked in the Ministry. Now he had something as leverage to get Ron to stop making snide remarks at Hermione if he continued to do so. Ron glanced around nervously and it was enough to convince him that they had indeed flown the illegal car before.

"Well, what happens if it breaks down halfway, or it can't manage the distance required? Do you even stop to consider these things?"

"Look, the two of you could we just pretend like this conversation never happened?"

"Dad... we're poor folk you know. Dad's job is the only thing we have… could you please not tell anyone?"

"Are you still planning to fly that thing to Hogwarts and make a dramatic entrance?" Harry asked them. "Because that certainly would compromise your dad's career."

The twins turned ashen grey just like Ron had before. "You're right. It was stupid. Let's just owl the school. But will you not tell?"

"So long as you don't fly the thing out in the open no one would believe me if I tried." Harry said sedately, "right Harper?"

Harper just looked somewhat annoyed at Harry for giving the Weasleys a lifeline. And he still wouldn't talk to them or properly acknowledge their lot. "Whatever you say Potter," he replied evasively.

At the Weasley's request Harry also owled the Weasley boys' letter addressed to the Burrow in addition to the SOS to Hogwarts. Then they stood at the Platform just waiting for hours. Wizarding communication was just so slow, Harry thought to himself. Harry also kindly bought Harper a lunch sandwich as well because he didn't have any Muggle money and was expecting to dine off the trolley in the Hogwarts express while the Weasleys ate what their mother had packed for them. It was awkward because neither he nor Harper definitely, knew the Weasleys well enough to ask them for help. Nor did the Weasley twins and Ron want to confirm anything about the car...

They sat waiting on platform benches like everyone else who was waiting for a train. Harper sat apart from them and then he dozed off. Harry read some of his school textbooks surreptitiously, not because he needed to as he had already read them at least once, but because of sheer boredom.

Eventually after several hours of waiting where the Weasley twins were beginning to mutter about regretting their course of action, also muttering nasty, justified things about Harper, with evening drawing closer, Harry made out his least favourite professor in the distance heading towards them in a crowd of muggles. Harry had noticed that witches and wizards were always apparently stuck in whatever day of fashion they had grown up wearing going to muggle schools. Snape was no exception.

"Harper, Weasleys, Potter, follow me." They all picked up their trunks when Snape told them to leave their trolleys, Snape quickly tapped their possessions lightly with his wand charming them feather light but he deliberately missed Harry's trunk. Harry gritted his teeth as he struggled to follow them wrestling with the weight of his even when the twins took pity on him and offered to carry Iolanthe's cage. He couldn't of course reveal his wandless magic and Snape was truly an evil git.

Snape led them all out of the station and through the city until they entered a dirty public washroom. Snape checked the stalls one after the other and finding them empty, locked the door with a flick of his wand and withdrew an oversized key that looked like it belonged to Hagrid.

Everyone seemingly knew what to do. Harry copied everyone else and they all laid a firm grip on a part of the metal.

"One, two, three," Snape spoke deliberately...

They were off in a dizzying spiral of rapidly rushing lights and colours moving forward at a disorientating pace. Harry who had not been expecting anything like this, struggled to hold on but just managed it. When they landed on solid ground again, he was feeling extremely nauseous, easily the worst he had ever felt in his life and he had to force down an active urge to vomit.

But looking around, Harry realized with a sudden surge of giddiness, that they had made it back to Hogwarts.


	33. Chapter 33

They had barely arrived before Snape launched into his lecture mode.

"Late students who miss the train are deliberately punished and need to wait several hours for a response and parents are discouraged from taking their children and apparating to Hogesmede. Unsurprisingly the parents agree to this policy. The train is meant as an important opportunity to socialize with the rest of your fellow schoolmates, and we cannot have students just skipping it out of expedience or pretext. This policy is effective. All the students arrive on time and using one method. The train is a Hogwarts tradition that has over a century of tradition. Statistically we have about one student missing the train every seven years. This is the first time that no less than four missed the train in just one year, not even that, a single trip! What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We weren't late professor," the twins said simultaneously, while Harry thought it was better to stay silent. "The barrier closed early."

"If so, and you hadn't merely misread the time, this should be a lesson for the future not to cut corners so closely and risk disaster. As per Hogwarts tradition, all of you will receive one detention for missing the train."

No one complained even as the Weasleys gritted their teeth but they were walking rapidly so that they wouldn't miss the feast entirely. When they entered the Great Hall, the sorting had just ended and Dumbledore was making his prior remarks.

As Harry made his way to the Slytherin table he saw a row of new faces and he sat down with the rest of the second-years, a little closer now to the head of the table, just as Dumbledore was introducing Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defence professor.

Harry glanced up and ignored questions from Malfoy and Davis and saw Lockhart grin and wave cheerily as a wave of cooing broke out of the crowd. It made his stomach turn but Harry was relieved to see that there was not much coming from their side of the hall.

"What a disaster," he could hear Daphne say, "Dumbledore's really done it this time. A new low."

"But how do you know Professor Lockhart…" Tracey started to say.

Daphne hissed. "Everyone who isn't stupid knows Lockhart's a fraud who's only gotten by due to his good looks," she snapped. "We're not going to learn anything useful in the class for the second year running. At this rate we'll all fail our OWL exams."

"Well the job's jinxed." Zabini told her. "A whole host of inconvenient reasons why no one's lasted more than a year. We had Quirrel last year destroyed by his own magical experiment…" He proceeded to recount the fates of ten predecessors who had met with unfortunate circumstances that forced a resignation, health problems, death of loved ones, Quidditch injuries, magical accidents, poison, personal scandals…

"So only idiots like Lockhart would take it now," Draco said casually. "Anyway it's obviously jinxed, but then Dumbledore should have lifted it if he was in any way competent."

Harry could also see from the Slytherin table that Ron was again trying to build up his popularity by making nasty remarks about Hermione. This time however he was glad to see that she seemed completely indifferent to his remarks, no longer even getting annoyed. And their fellow classmates seemed to have matured a bit and were not finding it very funny. Nevertheless, he would have to have a talk with him and make an impression.

As the feast finished and Dumbledore waved them off to bed, Harry rose quickly and exited the crowd ignoring the queries behind him. He exited the great hall and turned a corner heading for the Dungeons and seemingly the Slytherin common room. But there out of sight, he put on his cloak again and retraced his steps heading for Gryffindor.

He caught up with the sea of Gryffindors all marching up to their tower and followed about twenty steps behind cautiously. When Percy Weasley had said the password, the vast group marched in and Harry had spotted Ron among them.

And just like that he had infiltrated the Gryffindor common room. Harry turned round and went back to his own dungeons having acquired the password.

At midnight he rose again from bed and put on his cloak again, ignored the snores and ventured out of the dormitory. He knew he was being reckless but he couldn't help it. Having the cloak and using it had given him a sense of invincibility and made every risk possible.

The castle was silent, haunting as Harry journeyed to Gryffindor tower, said the password still invisible to a very surprised Fat Lady who nevertheless let him in. He found himself quite liking the common room and thought it was a lot cozier and pleasant than Slytherin's. Unsure as to which staircase was to the boy's dormitories, he tried one and found himself sliding back down again and so he knew it wasn't right.

He listened outside the second year boy's dormitory and heard the snores and sounds of natural breathing. Harry placed silencing charms along all the door's hinges and pushed it open slowly and silently. He had realized by now that while the castle's defences and security measures against outsiders were formidable, they had nothing in place to protect students from each other. He tiptoed around and spotted Ron Weasley's ginger hair and quickly cast a basic tracking charm that he had learnt from the end of last year. A more experienced wizard would have been able to tell, from the moment they used magic, and they could easily counter it. But he was certain Ron, like any typical second year wouldn't know. And then he left.

The next day, the moment Harry encountered him again at the Great Hall for breakfast, it was activated. For a twelve hour period, if Harry needed to, a point-me just instinctively told him where Ron was within a certain distance parameter, the spell weakened if the distance was wider. As Ron was the first time he had tested it against anyone other than Iolanthe, he found that very useful to confirm that it worked too.

Harry cornered Ron in the washroom after lunch.

"So let me get this straight, you feel insecure so you bully her to make yourself feel more secure? What do you have to be insecure about anyways?"

Ron's face turned pink. "So you fancy her. Oh great way to muddle things up Weasley. You don't feel you can live up to her so you belittle her, strange how human psychology works isn't it?" Harry didn't know why but he suddenly felt even more furious with Ron.

"What's this to do with you anyways Potter? Why do you care what I do…"

"Hermione's my friend and I don't ever want to see a repeat of such. Seriously Weasley, lay off the crowd emotion tactics this year. Is that a reasonable demand?"

"You know I never really meant it, all the things that I said," Ron was trying to defend himself now that Harry stood with his arms folded blocking the exit, fingering his wand. "Okay yeah I do agree it's a reasonable demand…"

"I don't care whether you meant it or not, your words have an effect as to how the rest of your house sees Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth, "because your house is clearly full of idiots who only know how to follow the apparent alpha male." Not that Slytherin House was much better he admitted silently to himself.

"I apologize then, okay? Just calm down, I'll… I'll leave her alone."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to for last year. So here's the deal Weasley. End it or I'll make you regret it." Harry's wand hand twitched. "Tell anyone that I threatened you and I'll make you regret it. Now get out."

Ron ran, wrenching open the door that he had unlocked and he fled. Harry lifted the Muffliato and slumped against the sinks wiping a hand to his brow to cool off. He also didn't quite understand himself why he was feeling so defensive of Hermione these days, and why the thought of her mistreatment just made him plain angry.


	34. Chapter 34

Classes had resumed and with it a sense of normalcy. But Lockhart's first class was every bit as bad as Harry could have imagined, no far worse. Unperturbed that a bunch of snakes were staring at him very cynically and skeptically, Lockhart had launched into a tirade of self-glorification and boasting that made all of them cringe uncomfortably. Harry had transfigured a bunch of random library books with Lockhart covers for the class and Lockhart was especially beaming down upon him and winking frequently in his direction drawing snickers from Malfoy and the rest.

Half the lesson had been spent on a quiz testing them on Lockhart's fancies in life which they all failed Lockhart told them bluntly but said he forgave them all. Lockhart then released a cage of pixies before fleeing from the room moments later as a bunch attacked them and all the Slytherins fled quickly. Harry transfigured an enormous net and with the help of a freezing charm, managed to enmesh them all together. Then he too left the room fuming.

Harry however had managed to sketch together a plot about what to do about Lockhart by the time he entered Herbology in order so that a glorious opportunity might not be wasted. Slytherins had joint lessons with Gryffindor this year and after the Mandrakes, it gave him the opportunity to have a quiet conversation with Hermione as they marched back to the castle from the greenhouses.

Harry tried to regain some of his wits as he steeled himself to talk to her, namely to ask whether she had gotten his letter.

"Yes. I did."

"You did write back to me?"

"Uh, yes I wrote you a reply. I had a… rough summer. So I apologize for not replying immediately. About a week after your letter. Didn't you receive it?

He shook his head. "Someone's been intercepting them, I didn't even get my Hogwarts letter for the year. Dunno what's going on. If it continues into next summer though I'm really going to get the Ministry to look into it…" He lowered his voice. "So you understand what Quirrel was up to?"

"It's not appropriate to discuss that here. But yes, I understand. Since you didn't receive the letter…" She whispered more softly. "I saw you being possessed. Or at least the spirit of You Know Who tried to possess you. You were shaking and writhing like you were being subjected to electric shock…"

"Also I wrote this in the letter as well. I do apologize for the silent treatment I gave you at the end of last year. It was really improper for me to take out my anger on you, it wasn't your fault and I appreciate the concern you showed…"

"Well I also had a word with Weasley and I think he'll leave you well alone this year."

"Well I thank you for speaking on my behalf Potter. But I'm not helpless you know. I've been making friends in Gryffindor just fine this year so you should really be more concerned for yourself. And yes I know Weasley is a twat."

So they were back on last name terms again.

"But if you want to worry, worry about your pal Malfoy who delights in insulting every muggleborn he sees to their face."

"Right," Harry conceded grudgingly, "right you have a point. That is a problem."

Hermione snorted, then she broke out into a wide grin. "You just wait Potter. I'm going to beat you in Charms and Transfiguration this year guaranteed!"

"Bring it on."

And Hermione was true to her word. She now basically matched him in practicals and was considerably better in theory which would have meant that she would have topped him in grades. But since the professors had seen fit to award him a twelve percent bonus for perfect silent casting, he inched her out again.

Harry was also glad to see Neville performing much better with his new wand, so as to draw praise from his professors for the improvement. It also made him feel more confident, he could see, so a virtuous cycle was building.

It turned out later in the evening that Dumbledore had requested a meeting with him in his office, delivered by by an irate Snape who was clearly disgusted at playing the messenger between them. Harry was questioned extensively by Dumbledore on how exactly his meeting with Dobby had gone.

"Was Dobby… agitated and nervous when he informed you, or did he seem serene?"

"Definitely the former. That's why I also think he was doing something against his orders."

"If Dobby were to lie to you it would only have been at his master's behest. In which case he would have been perfectly serene. The same would be true if he had merely told a truth he had not been forbidden to tell."

"Do you have any idea what's going on sir?"

"Firstly it appears that your fame Harry is known even among house elves." Dumbledore looked amused then turned more serious. "But my suspicion is that Lucius Malfoy may attempt to smuggle certain dark objects into the castle this year, and that might be what the plot is referring to. The Ministry has been conducting extensive raids in his Manor and he simply can't keep up the charade any longer. Lucius has a fascination with dark objects and is something of a collector. In any case I conducted extensive checks on all possessions entering the castle…"

"You search our trunks?!"

Dumbledore smiled grimly. "The house elves do, and what they find I am not privy to know except in the cases where it is a dangerous or dark object."

"Wait there are house elves here? Oh I see that's how everything gets done so smoothly around here!"

Dumbledore smiled gently again and glancing at his timepiece, announced that Harry had detention with Lockhart for the rest of the evening and Harry inwardly groaned.

Still he could be charming when he had to, and it was well worth the minor annoyance of play-acting if he could secure something in return. Harry really really wanted a blank cheque for the restricted section but also because Lockhart was extremely popular in the wizarding world, it would do him no harm associating with him. If Slytherins laughed at him he could just say it was an act and they would accept it. Some of them might start sucking up to Lockhart as well, as soon as they got over their initial contempt and their more Machiavellian instincts came into play.

So he laughed and joked with Lockhart the full two hours as they answered his extensive fan mail together and Harry got a first hand glimpse at just how parochial and sheep-like much of the wizarding world was, perhaps even more so than Muggles since wizard kind was clearly spoilt by the convenience of magic and so the lack of many challenges or unattainable things in life clearly made their independent thinking skills go to waste.

"Harry what's this? A Theory of Magical Conjuration and also Healing Theory for Healers Third Edition, a prospective healing career we are thinking aren't we Harry? Pioneer new treatments! Identify new magical maladies! Ah, it was also a childhood dream of mine but in the end I dedicated my life solely to the fight agains the Dark Forces of the world," Lockhart said solemnly before waving his arms dramatically anew. "As such I would not dream of hindering your progress Harry, and together we can both say that when Harry Potter was a mere student at Hogwarts, Professor Lockhart was there to guide him on the path to greatness!" And he signed the document with a flourish.

Unfortunately for Lockhart, with some invisible ink, Harry had obscured the names of over a dozen titles that he hadn't seen. Especially the darker ones since there was no way to know how Lockhart would have reacted to them, even as idiotic as he was he could still display self-righteous pomposity. But now finally he could fully resume his extracurricular studies.

Late at night, Harry was reading and wrestling with new concepts. The NEWT theory was some of the hardest he had ever encountered. It was going to take some time. This was his predicament. Harry read a passage aloud from A Theory of Magical Conjuration written by none other than a collaboration between Professors Dumbledore and McGonagoll. It was a very famous book written just before he had been born.

"Given that human abstraction of material forms occurs not directly from material things themselves, but rather through a phantasm or an intelligible species of the material thing, therefore in the conjuration of objects the caster produces only a projection of the object, rather than the material object itself. That is why any conjured object loses its form when it has been subjected to minor change as opposed to real objects. So conjured animals for example do not bleed but they vanish. Conjured objects do not last long nor can magical objects possessing magical properties ever be conjured. (see note on magical formal reality as to why no intelligible species is necessary for abstracting magical properties, rather magic is the reality, therefore magical properties cannot be conjured/imitated through magic, only actually created through spells or naturally occurring magic) So for example magical creatures cannot be conjured. Nevertheless despite the object of conjuration only technically being a phantasm or the intelligible species through which we abstract forms, the form abstracted is still of the material object itself and so what is conjured has perfect outward formal likeness to the material thing that it represents, from which it was abstracted during the thought process of conjuration in the first place."

Of course there was no way of confirming whether magical theories really held true, everyone knew this, or to be fair there were people thinking about them and comparing them, but Harry knew he didn't have anywhere near that ability. For students like him, theory had its uses in making it more conducive to be able to perform spells or transfigurations in this case, if he was able to understand the nature of the magic as the theory defined it as.


	35. Chapter 35

Three weeks after Slytherin had their first practices to integrate Malfoy into the team, Flint finally called for quidditch trials for the position of chaser by posting an announcement on the house board notices. A gaggle of students came to read it and it was certainly the most prestigious out of a number of similar announcements for various clubs and societies.

Surprisingly few actually showed up however and Flint had chosen the day before Halloween. Harry put that down to the fact that Slytherins generally showed more tact about their own abilities and were hesitant about revealing them so openly. So that only those who were reasonably confident showed up so as to not make a fool of themselves. This was very unlike Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff tryouts where literally half the house would turn out.

Flint shouted at them all to make a few laps around the pitch and the four candidates for the open chaser position, Harry included, looped around and eyed each others' capabilities. Flint, Pucey as the chasers. Warrington, Montague as the beaters. Malfoy already guaranteed a spot as seeker for his father's donation. Bletchley was keeper. They all scrutinized the newcomers carefully hovering on their brooms and forming an intimidating ring around the pitch. Harry flew deceptively clumsily in order to fool Bletchley for the first time who had never seen him in action.

"Harper, you first." Harper, that Harry remembered meeting on Platform Nine and three quarters, flew forwards and did a manoeuvre as Flint tossed him the Quaffle. He ducked Pucey's arm as he went and tried to fake out Bletchley but she was unmoved. He ended up aiming for the middle hoop and while Bletchley swerved to the right, she was able to block it in time.

"Higgs." Harry was feeling sorry for him because he felt pretty sure that he was a better seeker than Malfoy, more experienced at the very least.

Higgs too failed to score and it soon became obvious that he was not much of a chaser. Flint soon had to fly up to him so they could have a private conversation in midair and soon Higgs departed after only his first try, noticeably crestfallen.

"Zabini." His fellow housemate was not quite as good as Harper but Harry thought he had more raw potential. He was a better flier than Harper although it was quite obvious that Harper was much more experienced in Quidditch and had dedicated long hours to it.

"Potter." He gripped the shooting star and shot forward. He knew that Flint, still bearing a grudge from last year would probably give him the sternest test, and he was ready. A casual sloth grip roll was enough to avoid the bludger Montague sent his way as he rushed towards the Quaffle that Pucey had thrown. Flint had a much better and faster broom and he got there a second ahead, but Harry timed it perfectly and dispossessed the captain before he had time to consolidate his hold on the ball.

He dived for the Quaffle and Flint, surprised was still trailing him. Harry gained the Quaffle about ten feet from the ground and pulled a reverse spin upwards at seventy degrees, leaning back on his broom with just the right amount of force… Flint shot past him in the opposite direction. The old shooting star strained and Harry had to keep a firm hand to stop it rattling as he spun back into position aiming for goal.

Bletchley had flown out to meet him which was quite sensible as Harry was smaller, being only a second year with much less reach. He faked to the right obviously and then faked left and Bletchley fell for it as Harry went right again and tossed the Quaffle through the right hoop.

And so as the match went on Slytherin house, and all those watching and spying from the stands grew increasingly stunned at Harry Potter's apparently phenomenal flying skills. Even the first years who had seen him from last year's flying lessons were surprised because Harry had never been able to pull off some of the more dangerous stunts with Madame Hooch watching and he wasn't a natural showoff. Here however, he had no qualms about fully displaying his abilities so that Flint absolutely couldn't turn him down, without looking like a completely fool that was. He soon lost himself in the match and forgot time and place, playing completely by instinct and Harry soon scored as many as Zabini and Harper put together, despite his still obvious inexperience in the position. They had a break halfway and a certain first year Gryffindor, Creevy was thrown out for spying and repeatedly taking photographs.

"Alright that's enough," Flint said gruffly as evening began to fall. "Potter, you're in. Welcome to the team." There were cheers all around as Montague, Warrington clapped him on the back, Draco shook his hand. They were all very impressed and old animosities seemed to be forgotten.

"We have two practices per week scheduled. Normally they last about two hours. In addition there's a one hour study tactics session on Saturdays." Harry just nodded and all of them began to troop back to the castle, exchanging barbs and past Quidditch exploits.

The next morning at breakfast however, even Harry's brilliance at Quidditch was not the topic of discussion at Slytherin table. Instead pandemonium reigned as the whole school was abuzz with rumours and speculations. Mrs. Norris had been found petrified in the corridors by a piece of unknown magic and scrawled on the walls…

Harry visited just after breakfast before class standing with a crowd of students who looked up inquiringly at the message, despite the attempts of Professor McGonagoll and Flitwick to shoo them away.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

It was all very dramatic but was it to be taken seriously? Obviously a lot of people detested Mrs. Norris and Harry heard quite a few muttering about "good riddance" and others hoping she might be permanently petrified. Filch was nowhere to been seen, and reportedly had been sobbing in his office for the last few hours. So that was a bonus.

Harry couldn't think of anything, no piece of magic, that could petrify without leaving traces of what had been used for the professors to pick up. But amidst the buzz in the corridors, he got the message that no one had any clue of what had caused the petrification and even Dumbledore was stumped.

Classes ended early that day, as first years as Slytherins had taken to boycotting Lockhart's classes. While Lockhart barely even seemed to notice the diminishing numbers, convinced that it was all "a bad season for wheezes" while the few who remained busily worked to gain his favour, so he was even more pleased and never reported on anyone.

Most Slytherins simply stopped coming to class. "When Dumbledore treats students with such disrespect as to the quality of teaching, the thing to do is to boycott the classes," Daphne said. "Especially since Lockhart doesn't even care anyways. He just wants former Hogwarts DADA professor on his resume. And to be photographed next to the freakin' boy-who-lived." Harry always came because he always wanted a book list signed so he could peruse the Restricted Section freely.

As Harry entered the common room at the end of the day, Slytherin house was still full of speculation as that particular message left on the wall had referred to them most of all.

"Filch's cat was petrified, someone decided to play a delightful prank."

"Or maybe they lost their mind, too much firewhiskey."

"What do they mean, that the Chamber of Secrets is open and that enemies of the school should beware?"

"Ha!"

"Think they mean mudblood scum and blood traitors?"

"Legend has it Salazar Slytherin built the chamber himself to take revenge on those who had wronged him and we all know he was forced out because of his beliefs."

"Who's the heir? Seriously, I don't think anyone can prove direct lineage from Slytherin himself…"

"But obvious this is a trick, whatever it is. No one's ever been able to find the chamber. They say it doesn't exist."

"Wrong Greengrass," Malfoy said smiling broadly, "my father told me, the chamber was opened when he was in school."

Harry sat up.

"By who?"

Malfoy seemed to be aware that he had spoken too much because he backtracked. "My father said he wasn't sure, but last time… someone actually died… A mudblood girl…"

Harry didn't say much, preferring to stay silent to soak up as much information as he could from the others. He was really out of his depth because he recognized that he knew next to nothing about Hogwarts history or the history of Slytherin house more specifically. But Harry suspected now that the plot, whatever Dobby had said, had to do with the chamber of secrets and it probably involved Lucius Malfoy in one way or another, if he had such detailed knowledge of what happened "last time" that he had even told Draco. Harry thought this because Draco had deliberately avoided saying more after the slip up without any obvious reason why, but Harry could tell he definitely knew more.

Could Lucius be acting through his son? Harry really doubted it, because if he had, Draco wouldn't have been so careless to even let that slip. But the fact that he had let something slip (about something his father had said) and felt obliged to say no more, implicated Lucius.


	36. Chapter 36

Now that Harry had almost unlimited access to the Restricted Section, he was spending most nights and weekends intrigued with the advanced magic that he was exploring, much of which he knew was not even on the Hogwarts curricula for upper year students. Hours and hours he would spend holed up in the library or empty classrooms practicing, until dark circles emerged around his eyes and he was viewed by most of his House as a social outcast and misfit. However Harry justified his odd predilections to the certainty of the fact that Voldemort was still out there somewhere, very interested in hunting and ultimately killing him for his past defiance.

Harry understood that based on the simple concept of power, Voldemort couldn't let an aberration on his claim to invincibility stand unchallenged. He was fairly clear that his whole life would be spent confronting Voldemort personally without any personal choice in the matter, and he wanted to survive and he was also terrified of the Dark Lord, judging from their last encounter which now regularly haunted his dreams.

And so the weeks of extracurricular learning and harsh learning routines passed by and he persevered. Harry learned numerous advanced spells, counter-spells, human animal live transfiguration theory, knowledge about dark artefacts, healing spells, and practiced silent and even wandless casting constantly. Not to mention Defence against the Dark Arts that Lockhart was so clearly neglecting. But of course to learn DADA properly, you often had to have a grasp of the Dark Arts as well…

The odd thing about the whole routine was simply Hermione er… Granger, who spent an inordinate amount of time in the Library and thus also noticed that he was spending almost as much time as her. And undoubtedly she would have to check what section of books he was always browsing like the insufferable, overbearing teacher's pet that she was, and yet he was still somehow oddly fond of her.

Harry could tell that she was always annoyed that she couldn't see what sort of books he was taking out from the Restricted Section, but once when he had fallen asleep after a day of gruelling Quidditch practice and a particularly nasty bit of Charm animation theory he was reading, he found the book missing from his lap. He then duly scoured the entire library before finding Hermione crouched behind a desk reading it furiously with a furrowed brow.

"You've really taken a strange interest in my reading subjects these past few weeks. I suppose I should be flattered."

"And you've clearly been taking interest in the wrong set of topics Potter," Hermione retorted. "This sort of thing is Dark. I ought to report you. Only Year 7 NEWT students in relevant, chosen coursework are allowed access…"

"It's just theory…"

"The theory of reanimating dead animal corpses?"

"Well you're also clearly fascinated from the looks of it," Harry said mockingly. "If you report us, maybe we'll both get into trouble and lose equal House points."

"You'd be banned from the Restricted Section forever," Hermione said glaringly. "How is it you've been getting into the Restricted Section so often and able to choose whatever you want? Don't tell me it's your fame again." Her eyes were shining perhaps out of jealousy.

"Actually for your information I have permission for that specific book," Harry flashed the permission form before her.

"So the famous Harry Potter has been pressuring professors into doing whatever he wants?"

"I do suggest you stop listening to the likes of Ronald Weasley when he spent most of last year single-handedly castigating your reputation before your House," Harry said crossly. Then he hesitated as he saw her flinch slightly.

"So are you going to report me?"

Hermione shrugged, then went back reading. "Maybe."

"How about we make a deal you and I?"

"You're willing to share the books with a Muggleborn like me?"

"Not exactly. I'll tell you exactly how I've been getting any book I want from the Restricted Section."

"What?"

"Yeah you can do it too, in fact I guess you're one of the few who could pull it off."

"How?"

"Swear you won't turn me in to McGonagoll?"

"Hmm… I will if I'm satisfied with your answer I suppose."

Harry grinned and turned his back on her. "Three words. Lockhart. Invisible Ink. He likes you enough I think."

There was a pause and as he expected Hermione reacted shrilly, "Why didn't I think of that?" Harry turned around just in time to see her hotly slap her forehead.

"Well you did promise not to tell on me, but if you do, I'll know that you're doing the same thing too. So we'll both get in trouble I guess." He walked back to her and quickly wrenched back the book from her arms.

.

A few days later, during breakfast in the Great Hall where Harry sat as usual Daphne, Tracey and Theodore Nott, there was a sudden commotion at the head of the table and Harry saw seven owls swoop forth flying almost in a formation as seven packages fell with a thud on their House Table. He had just enough time to see Flint's overjoyed face before Malfoy grabbed at him and he followed. Their Nimbus 2001s had arrived at last.

It was nothing like Harry had ever ridden, if the Shooting Star was like that half-broken, second hand bike that Harry had saved from the dumpster as a kid to practice, the Nimbus was like one of Dudley's newest and most expensive racing-bikes. Smooth was the sensation of flight, and with explosive acceleration, it turned on the slightest tough and intention and Harry realized he could pull off much tighter dives, turns, and fakes with it.

It took a few practice sessions for the whole team to become used to the broom and to develop new team tactics and personal preferences. The whole team was much improved, and Harry was confident that their trio of chasers would outscore the Gryffindor trio, who were definitely not to be underestimated. He was concerned however, as to how stern a test Wood might prove, because Bletchley was certainly not his match in practice.

The position that was least dependent on the quality of the broom as to relative performance was Keeper. Harry scored eight times in a row against Bletchley in the space of fifteen minutes, breaking his own record.

The morning before their match against Gryffindor, Flint reviewed the team tactics for the final time and what they knew about their opposing lineup.

"The Gryffindor team has stayed intact from last year," Flint said grudgingly with a tiny amount of respect that Harry thought he could detect, "which means their weakest position is Seeker. McLaggen is a joke."

That brought jeers from everybody, but Harry noticed one thing that none of them were willing to voice either. Their worst position in the team was probably Seeker. Malfoy was definitely above average but not on par Diggory for example.

As the team filed out of the Great Hall to the general applause of the Slytherin tables and the cacophony of boos from the other three Houses, Harry felt his stomach tighten at the prospect of his first competitive Quidditch match. Even though he was confident of his own abilities, he knew anything could happen in a Quidditch match. Even the best players could get knocked out by an overlooked bludger for example…

In the changing rooms underneath, Flint checked on each team member to make sure they had what they needed, but he had little else to say. Slytherins, Harry mused, were like that. They cared little for motivational speeches, finding them to be superfluous and unnecessary. If they weren't motivated enough simply by being here, then they were definitely in the wrong place.

"Watch out for McLaggen's size," Harry heard Flint warn Malfoy, "don't you go into a physical match with him. Don't lose your temper. Outfly him and catch the snitch, that's all."

He cast a examining gaze on the other two chasers, Harry and Pucey. Warrington and Montague were the beaters, though probably more suited in frame to playing Chaser in Harry's opinion.

There was a roar from above and Harry knew the entire school had settled in their seats and Lee Jordan's commentary began. They filed out to the courtyard below and waited for their turn to emerge.

"And here are the Gryffindors! Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, McLaggen. And here is Wood the Gryffindor Team Captain! The Gryffindor squad widely considered to be the most talented with the best teamwork. Alas, their seeker position is also considered to be their achilles' heel of sorts."

Above, Harry imagined he could hear McLaggen lashing his teeth.

"Now," Flint said mechanically. They flew straight up and out and Harry was momentarily blinded by the sun before his eyes began to adjust and the nerves in his stomach loosened slightly. He could see up to eight hundred people in the stands, and three quarters were in Gryffindor colours. The roar and the sound was incredible as Lee's voice boomed across the field.

"The Slytherins! Pucey, Potter, Warrington, Montague, and Malfoy! And the Slytherin Team Captain, Marcus Flint! The Slytherin Squad widely acknowledged to be well balanced, and loaded with individual talent but have struggled with teamwork issues in the past. Physically they overmatch the Gryffindors even with the recent addition of two second years Potter and Malfoy!"

"Of course the entire audience is just dying to see how the two newest additions perform, especially Potter whose exploits in Slytherin's training sessions have been the talk for weeks." Harry leaned back on his broom and thought he saw Malfoy glaring daggers at his back.

"And the entire Slytherin team is flying the Nimbus 2001 courtesy of the generous gift from Malfoy senior which is widely rumoured to be the only reason Malfoy replaced the fairly excellent Terrence Higgs."

"Still it will be interesting to see how the new Nimbuses fare against the sturdy Cleansweeps that the Gryffindor squad is still flying."

Harry found the commentary to be unsurprisingly biased, especially since Slytherin had trounced Gryffindor last year even without the improved brooms.

Madam Hooch appeared at the centre now as Flint and Wood flew up to meet one another and shake hands as they exchanged a word with Hooch before returning to their previous positions. Tucked under Madam Hooch's arm was the Quidditch crate.

The whistle blew and Hooch unlatched the crate.

Speeding balls immediately flew out and Harry accelerated towards the red one which had dropped closest to him but was immediately forced to roll out of the way as a bludger headed in his direction.

"And Johnson gains the Quaffle! Potter just behind, marking her. Johnson to Spinnet, back to Johnson."

Harry was having more serious troubles shaking off the bludger which was aiming for him once again from afar and he was forced to break off from his position as he tailed Bell. He could vaguely see Flint trying to intercept another Gryffindor pass and behind his ear he heard Warrington whack the persistent bludger away towards Johnson…

"And Pucey gains the Quaffle. Pucey to Potter. My word!"

The bludger had reversed direction halfway towards Johnson unexpectedly zooming back towards him, Harry performed a sloth-grip roll and simultaneously avoided Spinnet's lunge for possession.

"Potter in possession. And look at Potter go now, he takes on Spinnet. Beats her! Takes on Bell and fakes her out…"

Harry was forced to relinquish possession and pass it on to Flint ten yards to his right as both bludgers headed towards him, one courtesy of the Weasley twins and he flew out of the way just in time as they collided below him, knocked off trajectory. He dived fifty yards and lost his Gryffindor marker and Pucey passed it back to him and he dished it out to Flint above.

"And the Nimbus 2001s are performing admirably, really beating out their opposition. Flint scores on Wood courtesy of an assist from Potter. Slytherin leads 10-0."

Harry flew as quickly as he could back to their side of the pitch and began tailing Johnson for defence, but out of the corner of his eye he could see the bludger persistently trailing. He was beginning to feel unnerved and suspected that some tampering had to have been done by somebody. Bludgers never followed one player obsessively as far as he knew…

"And Johnson gains the Quaffle, Johnson on Potter. And Potter is really hanging on at her rear now…"

Johnson was an excellent flier, Harry thought and difficult to mark. She passed on to Bell, and Harry faked a move left towards Spinnet on the other side and as Bell passed back to Johnson after being confronted by Flint he moved quickly to intercept.

"And Potter regains the Quaffle with a devious bit of misdirection there and is immediately forced to duck from that very same bludger that has been targeting Potter persistently throughout the match!"

Lee was really an idiot, Harry thought. If he had been in Gryffindor he felt sure that Lee would be screaming foul over a tampered bludger by now. But things were getting really dangerous for him that was for sure. Harry felt confident that he could evade this rogue Bludger many more times, but the risks mounted the longer this match continued…

He swerved past Johnson her arm outstretched to dispossess him and threw a reverse pass to Pucey and immediately looped him for the return pass. He saw Wood come out of his zone and easily rounded him and scored.

"That's 20-0 to Gryffindor and Potter is leading the pack of the Slytherin chasers here. Bell regains the Quaffle but here's Potter coming out of nowhere, he's picked out her blind spot!"

Harry punched the Quaffle free from Bell's grasp and the two pulled off an eighty foot dive to retrieve the falling Quaffle. Bell was forced to pull out from the dive first and Harry managed to get to the Quaffle but the next second his rogue bludger had appeared out of nowhere. Barely ten feet above ground, Harry swerved and the Bludger kicked up a shower of sand as it collided with the ground and went straight back at him and Harry ducked by instinct, feeling his hairs stand on end as he quickly pulled out of the dive and returned to the game. That had been the closest shave yet.

Seeing the Gryffindor chasers, Spinnet and Johnson seeking to double team him he threw a long pass to Pucey from the corner of his vision and watched him fire on Wood, who blocked it, but Flint picked up the rebound and scored.

The Gryffindors were clearly rattled and Harry saw that the rogue bludger was not just a disadvantage to him personally, but also to the Weasley twins who had much less ammunition to work with. Frustrated, they were dominating the remaining bludger and whacking it at Flint and Pucey respectively but one bludger was exponentially less effective than being in control and dominance of two.

"Potter ducks Spinnet and cleverly uses that rogue bludger of his to force Johnson off. Of course he has to get out of the way as well. Potter on Wood. Potter fakes right and Wood falls for it. Potter scores again. 40-0 to Slytherin."

It was not quite a slaughter though. Although Slytherin was scoring and their defence had yet to be tested as Gryffindor's chasers failed to keep up with their brooms and they could barely muster an offensive play of their own, the consideration of Harry's bludger meant that Slytherin's offensive was being slowed too.

"And Potter is at it again. Gaining possession at the corner, he misleads and misdirects Bell and turns over his shoulder, emerges unscathed, still in possession. He hands the Quaffle off to Flint who is heading in the opposite direction…"

"Nice one-two between Flint and Potter who scores again. Wood barely has time to duck the bludger that is always coming Potter's way. 50-0."

Harry was beginning to relax and even enjoy the game, even as the rogue bludger was still tailing him constantly. He was also beginning to learn how to anticipate the bludger's actions in always having to follow him, and even use that to his advantage against the Gryffindors, to scatter their defence for example…

"And it's Potter leading again as he accelerates up the pitch. No bludgers can stop him today. The Gryffindors are clearly desperate. Potter dives and loses Spinnet. Outstrips Johnson courtesy of a superior broom of course! Potter with an inch perfect pass to Flint who passes ahead to Pucey who scores…"

But a second too long of watching and savouring in triumph their sixth goal, and the bludger came out of Harry's blind spot in the air too quickly, headed directly for his head. Too fast to attempt a countermeasure Harry could only use his arm to block the Bludger as it shattered his left shoulder and he gave a cry of agony as he fought to stay on his broom, his vision turning rapidly to red.

"And Potter has finally been nailed good by that bludger of his! He might not make it, he's tilting dangerously and here comes that bludger again!"

But Warrington was there just in the thick of time as he knocked the bludger off course. Harry looked at him gratefully with one eye closed…

"And Flint has called a time out! Very strategic use of timeouts, Slytherin's style of course…"

Harry flew nearly blindly towards the Slytherin's end of the pitch, barely hanging on to his broom. The pain was overwhelming and he could barely think. As soon as he touched solid ground, ahead of his teammates, he vomited. The rest of the team landed next to him, and Montague was forced to again knock back the bludger which had followed him to the ground. "What the hell is going on here?" Flint raged, more concerned Harry thought, with the rogue bludger than his own injury. "How in Merlin's beard are we supposed to win this match?"

"We're sixty points up!"

"Just look at him, he obviously can't play anymore…"

"Just give me a minute," Harry raised his hand weakly as Warrington took another great swing with his club to eject the bludger.

"How could this happen," Flint raged at him. "We need to call off this match now perhaps."

"Malfoy, you need to catch the snitch as quickly as possible," Harry said turning to the last, ashen-faced member of their team.

"Malfoy has spent all match being marked to death by McLaggen and physically dominated by him. He can't even search for the snitch properly!"

"But how can you even play in this state," Malfoy said looking grim.

"Any one of you know how to heal this," Harry pleaded addressing the upper year who shook their heads in unison looking stumped.

"Well I know the theory at least, though I've never actually tried it against an actual injury." Harry withdrew his wand from his Quidditch robes with his good hand. "And of course you should never attempt to heal yourself, first rule in all of healing magic, the patient is usually in no physical state to cast spells competently on themselves. But desperate times call for desperate measures…"

"Brackium Emendo." The tip of Harry's wand shivered and a pale, ghostly stream of light flashed. Harry immediately felt a soothing sensation of relief as he could even feel his joints coming back into place and being healed from their fracture. Harry sighed as a wave of relaxation came over him.

"Can you still play?"

Harry tested his left arm. "Don't think it's completely healed yet. It still aches and hurts if I exert pressure. So technically I can, but I can only use one arm. Lucky my main throwing arm is still intact."

"Let's go then." Flint glanced back at the sky. "And Malfoy, we need you to catch the snitch now."

"Listen, go after McLaggen."

"And leave you unprotected," Montague asked calculating the odds. Warrington turned and smacked the approaching bludger back up into the sky.

"I can survive on my own, even if I probably can't score goals like before. We need Malfoy to be able to find the snitch and then catch it. Nothing else matters now," Harry replied.

Flint gave his nod of approval. A second whistle sounded which signified the end of their timeout and the game resumed.

But Wood, having evidently calculated the same thing, had instructed the Weasley twins to protect McLaggen and the stalemate ensued. With Harry halfway out of the game, the Gryffindors quickly scored two goals back to massive cheers by the majority gold-cloaked supporters. The pain in his arm was also beginning to increase again as time went on and he had to exert himself marking the Gryffindor chasers… The joints still felt inflamed, even as the sharpness of the pain had dulled significantly…

Then as Harry blocked Spinnet's shot on Bletchley he momentarily zoned out of the game as he caught a glint of gold from the opposite end of the pitch. Abandoning his position, he zoomed off in its direction, even as Bell grabbed the rebound and Bletchley just managed to save it. It was surely…

"POTTER, GET BACK TO YOUR POSITION," Flint shouted at the top of his lungs even as Harry flew past him.

"IT"S AT THE OPPOSITE END OF THE PITCH," Harry shouted as well at the top of his voice. "MALFOY, BENEATH WOOD'S GOALPOSTS!"

Malfoy looked and scrutinized a moment, before zooming off. McLaggen was hot on his heels. The entire game stopped as all the players surveyed their seekers heading off, except Harry who had to remain vigilant as he pulled off another sloth-grip roll to avoid his erst-while bludger. But here Malfoy's superior broom clearly came into play as he raced ahead of McLaggen…

Harry was suddenly possessed of a fierce desire to catch the snitch himself and he almost had to recall himself as to stop from urging his broom forward.

Malfoy was more agile than McLaggen who tried in vain to knock him off course, but ended up being off-course himself. Malfoy, having successfully avoided McLaggen's physical challenges, raced ahead and after a momentary struggle as the snitch failed to throw him off, he caught the snitch.

"Slytherin wins it, 210-20," came Lee's somewhat subdued voice..

Holding it aloft, Malfoy flew his victory lap as the rest of the team encircled him, Harry following. The Slytherin stands were applauding, but unlike the rest of the school, they hardly ever gave themselves over to wild celebration. As he spied that rogue bludger of his coming back towards him, Harry pulled out his wand in a flash and destroyed the bludger with a single reductor curse.


	37. Chapter 37

"You did this yourself?" Madame Pomfrey asked him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Harry hesitated, not wanting to reveal what he could do lightly, but relented as he was pretty sure Madame Pomfrey would be up to interrogating his older team mates.

"You are a second year student?" Madame Pomfrey questioned again in tone that signalled somewhat awe and incredulity.

"Did I do a good job?"

Recovering her composure, Madame Pomfrey sniffed and examined his arm carefully before whipping out her wand to cast diagnostics. "If you were an NEWT student specializing in healing charms for coursework, I would have advised Professor Flitwick to fail you. But I suppose for an interim purpose of stabilizing the injury so that you could continue on playing, it will do."

"But what you did today was extremely dangerous Potter. I sometimes still can't believe Quidditch players aren't allowed to seek medical attention from Healers until after a match concluded, it's truly barbaric. If the spell was improperly cast, even slightly, you could have removed all the bones in your arm which would make for a much more serious medical situation…"

Harry continued to stare at her as she droned on. "But as it is, you're only suffering from slight inflammation of the joints. Drink this." She proffered a potion to him that Harry accepted. "Bed rest and two hours later you may leave."

"But how many times have you tried this spell on an injury before, Potter?"

"A few times?"

"Not at all surprising then. It takes healers normally months of practice before they are able to perfect their mastery and control of any healing spell."

Harry downed the potion in one which tasted extremely like liquid toothpaste.

"Now I want to know under what circumstances you are practicing healing magic Potter." Madame Pomfrey looked somewhat stern. "Where you are seeing patients and their injuries to practice, and what kind of medical supervision you are receiving?"

Harry gulped and couldn't think of anything.

"You mean you've never actually cast Brackium Emendo on a live injury before?"

In the end, despite Harry's attempts to cover up, Madame Pomfrey agreed to teach Harry on a weekly basis pending the Headmaster's approval in light of his "not insubstantial" talent. In return Harry agreed to volunteer and work in the Hospital Wing for a couple hours per week where he would be learning the hands on job.

After Madame Pomfrey left to check on the other patients, Malfoy surprisingly came to visit where he regaled the celebrations that we breaking out in the Slytherin common room, but never once thanked Harry for helping him find and thus catch the snitch.

"Why wasn't the match halted though," Harry wondered aloud. "What with the obvious rogue bludger…"

Malfoy sniffed and assumed the superior, haughty attitude he always wore when he was reminded of how little Harry actually knew about the wizarding world, having grown up with muggles. "It's a longstanding rule in Quidditch, that you never stopped a game for almost any reason, even if a player dies. Rogue bludgers certainly aren't reason enough and are more commonplace than you think."

"But that's stupid and only encourages cheating."

"Exactly!" Malfoy made a very pained expression at him. "That's what makes Quidditch so exciting and topical. Both sides have an incentive to cheat, so long as they aren't caught beforehand. It makes the game much more interesting for fans and players…"

"What are the Gryffindors and Slytherins making of this?"

"Well it's usually the losing side that only complains," Malfoy shrugged. "It's stupid really. The conversation from the Gryffindor corridors is that they're accusing you of charming the bludger yourself to your advantage. Just because, you know, you played rather well."

"Notwithstanding the fact that I was almost knocked off my broom by it?"

"As I said, Gryffindors are really, really stupid…"

.

But Malfoy and himself were now regarded as heroes for the lower year students in light of their recent performances in Quidditch and the fact that they were in the team. There was almost an unspoken sense of rivalry between them but they both spent much time avoiding any possible confrontation.

The events from a few weeks ago which led to the petrification of Ms. Norris and the graffiti had almost faded from Harry's mind as he began to regard it as simply an unlikely coincidence of house elf madness and a prank done in very bad taste. Even so, he was keeping a close eye on Malfoy whenever possible, even though he was quite satisfied that Malfoy was probably not involved, whatever it was. Increasingly, he was doubting his instincts, that a plot even existed.

A week after the Quidditch match, and when Harry's lessons with Madame Pomfrey was underway, Colin Creevey, who hero-worshipped Harry even though they were in separate houses was murdered whilst returning from the Library to his common room late at night, right around his regular visits there to badger Harry. Again, despite the talk of the entire school, no one had any idea how he had died (his body was left without any marks), or whether it was even the same perpetrators who had carried out the first attack. The killing curse seemed a real possibility. It also seemed to Harry, that Dumbledore's predictions about dark and dangerous objects being smuggled into the castle by Lucius, was possibly accurate.

There was a noticeable shroud of grief that seemed to cover the entire student body, and various professors could be seen weeping at the start of their classes. The board of Governors were soon called in, Lucius being a member, and Harry saw the logic of why he would be using these attacks to try and get Dumbledore removed.

Harry also noted that the sense of exhilaration and excitement that had surrounded Slytherin House and its students had suddenly evaporated overnight. That is hardly anybody in his House really thought muggle-borns would actually die. They probably just felt it was for good sport and various students in his House wanted to teach the muggle-born elements in the school a frightful lesson, to put them in their place. Either that or they were merely hiding their true feelings, because it would definitely be insane to show any happiness over the death of a fellow student.

Harry on the other hand was feeling extremely remorseful, due to the fact that he always turned the boy away coldly and was prone to jinxing him to stop him talking, was suddenly wide-alert to the undeniable prospect of a threat, that some kind of murderous plot existed after all. That very night, on the day after Colin's death, Dobby paid him another visit.

.

Long after the other boys had gone to bed, Dobby appeared at the foot of his bed, and looking around wildly, he hastily cast a set of silencing spells

"Harry Potter did not listen to Dobby and returned to Hogwarts, despite all of Dobby's warnings!"

"Dobby," Harry hissed and he seized the elf's shirt again. "Don't you dare disappear again, you have to tell me exactly what's going on, where all these attacks are coming from. They're talking about closing the school, students are in mortal danger-"  
"Harry Potter is in mortal danger! Dobby thought that that his bludger would be enough to send Harry Potter home…"

"That's why they have the Hospital Wing Dobby! How on earth did you think a physical injury would be enough to send me back to Privet Drive?"

As Dobby started to struggle in his grasp and beat himself, Harry seized Dobby's fists with the other hand.

"Listen, I know you know what's going on. Don't you dare deny it…" Dobby frantically shook his head, his large round eyes terrified. "You work for Lucius Malfoy, you're his house elf." Dobby frantically shook his head again, his eyes closed. "Lucius Malfoy is behind this isn't he, he did something to instigate these attacks, you warned me about it last summer…"

Dobby's reaction was quite sufficient to confirm to Harry that he was right on the mark. All the time while he spoke, Dobby was shaking his hand frantically, looking very much at guilt and trying to punish himself. "Okay, Dobby, tell me how he's doing this. Tell me, so that nobody else has to die. So that I won't be in mortal danger anymore, come on, isn't that what you wanted?"

"The Diary, Harry Potter. Look for the Diary!"

"The diary?" Harry pulled Dobby closer to him until they were almost face to face. "What diary Dobby, you have to be more specific? What diary are you talking about? Lucius' diary? Is it a dark object? How has a diary been causing all these attacks? How exactly did Colin Creevey die?"

Dobby was still struggling mightily and beginning to claw at him with his long nails. Harry yelped and let go and went for his wand, but Dobby was quicker and disapparated in an instant.

Harry fell back in his bed, feeling even more confused. The next day, he went to a very weary and rather down-trodden Albus Dumbledore again, who thanked him for the information and advised him to continue communicating with Dobby, but that a magical diary, would be almost impossible to find, when there were literally tens of thousands of books in Hogwarts at least.

"You have to search every student until you find something then Headmaster!"

"Don't you think the perpetrator, whoever it is, would know to hide the diary in case of precisely such a general search? It would also give up the game, the advantage of us knowing that it is in fact a magical diary that is fuelling these attacks, with our adversary not knowing that we know."

"So you want to do nothing?"

"For the time being, I believe that is the best and least dangerous course of action, though I say this with a heavy heart. Thank you for telling me this Harry. The next time you speak with Dobby, may I suggest you resort to gentler methods of persuasion in attempting to gain his trust and friendship…"

But Harry merely stormed out, feeling more anxious and angry than before.

.

A week after Colin's death, a notice began running the rounds of various House common rooms detailing the establishment of a Duelling Club, under the auspices of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Despite the fact that Professor Lockhart was clearly a fraud, or perhaps precisely for that very reason, or perhaps it was merely the state of tension, fear, and anxiety that surrounded the student body, almost every second year turned up for their very first meeting.

"Welcome all," Lockhart gestured and waved enthusiastically, causing his few female fans remaining to swoon, while Draco gagged and pretended to vomit to Harry's right. Lockhart then unwisely chose to participate in a mock duel with his "assistant" Professor Snape and was promptly knocked off his feet with a single incantation.

"Not to worry, not to worry," Lockhart said cheerfully, picking himself off the floor and making sure to brush every speck of dust from his immaculate set of robes.

Harry was paired with Crabbe, and when they were told to begin, Crabbe immediately went for him with his fist. This caused Harry to cast a rather crude tripping jinx. Crabbe immediately crashed to the ground, amidst the general cacophony and chaos that erupted all round him. Surveying the scene, Harry made out his various students in various forms of distress, some locked in physical combat, others throwing showers of sparks at one another and causing explosions to come out the ends of their wands… Hermione in particular was caught in a headlock by Millicent, who was fearsomely twice her size.

Flicking his wand surreptitiously, Harry cast a mild stinging hex which forced Bulstrode to release her hold, grimacing in pain, and gazing around in confusion as to who had intervened.

"Stop, stop, stop!" came Lockhart's voice above the dense fog of green smoke that had been generated by the student's attempts to duel. As the fog dissipated, Lockhart had begun to lecture them all again. "Tut, tut, I see I had better teach your first how to block unfriendly spells."

Harry really wanted to simply say that no student he could see apart from him had even managed to cast a single spell that could be recognized anywhere, but he held his tongue as he needed to stay in Lockhart's good books. The fact that Hogwarts kept having terrible DADA professors and poor standards in the subject was possibly political as well, and not just a result of Voldemort's curse. Because if everyone was skilled in the subject Harry realized the Ministry would be weakened. It only held the position of esteem and authority it did so long as everyone was completely dependent and powerless before aurors.

"But first I will need two students to demonstrate exactly what I mean." And then Lockhart went and picked his two favourite students of the year. "Potter, Granger. Up here please."

Harry stepped forwards uncertainly, and was aware of all the students' various gazes on him, as well as Hermione to a much less extent. He looked at her, still somewhat shaken by her physical bout with Millicent and for once, did not seem exhilarated to be singled out by a teacher.

"An excellent choice," was Professor Snape's reply as he began to smirk nastily.

"Very well now. Granger will be attempting to block Potter's spell now. Do you know how to…" Hermione nodded and Harry's eyes widened slightly. "So we'll begin. On the count of three…"

"Three, two, one…"

Harry immediately cast a "Stupefy!" and a jet of red light shot out of the end of his wand directly towards Hermione who countered, "Protego!" Harry saw Snape's mouth open slightly in shock as Harry's spell was deflected cleanly back towards him which he sidestepped.

"Very good the pair of you!" Lockhart enthused. And scanning around, he saw the rest of the students staring in awe. "Continue then please, so we can see what you can do."

Harry fixed Hermione a stare who glared back determinedly, they both had their wands pointed at the other in an accepted combat position. Harry waited, his breath caught in his chest, as he surveyed every minute detail about her. Her bushy hair, the way her uniform was in a somewhat mess, her slightly trembling wand…

His mind drifted suddenly and he felt something stir in him and he knew he must have given an impression of momentary weakness, because the next second he heard her shout, "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS, EXPELLIARMUS!"

"PROTEGO!" Harry's shield met her two spells easily and deflected away, however at angles away from Hermione that they narrowly missed a nearby student. "IMPEDIMENTA, INCARCEROUS!"

Hermione had raised her shield again to repel his first spell and with a "DIFFINDO", she cut through his conjured ropes and counterattacked again, "IMMOBULUS" which forced Harry to cast another shield charm.

And so, on and on it went with neither side being able to overcome the other's shield, as they took it in turns to counterattack and defend. Eventually, tiring of this, Harry revealed the full scope of his silent casting abilities and fired hex after hex in rapid fashion which forced Hermione fully in the defence, as she shielded again and again, retreating. But her shield was holding steady, and Harry found it simply impossible to shatter her defences.

He was beginning to tire quickly, and suddenly felt panicked at the prospect of losing a duel in front of the entire year, and to a muggle-born no less. Harry fired another trip jinx hoping to catch her off guard, but she anticipated it and managed to move out of its way. He alternated between stunners and trip jinxes, even attempting to cast a Glisseo to force her to slip, but since they were on carpet it had no effect.

"INCENDIO!" Hermione shouted and blue flames shot out of her wand and even though Harry shielded, he felt the intense burst of heat. With a sudden pang he realized he wasn't able to magic water in so short a notice in the midst of a duel as he heard Lockhart shout, "No more fire spells!" But the flames that were now eating away at the carpet and leaving dark stains, burn marks, was severely restricting his mobility. Getting angry, and notwithstanding the outbreak of whispers all around he shouted, "REDUCTO!"

That curse almost did the trick and it shattered Hermione's shield but it left Harry winded from all his heavy casting; he had fired at least three quarters of the offensive spells in the duel. The split second of fatigue was enough for Hermione to raise another shield that battered away his EXPELLIARMUS.

What was going on? Harry was raging at himself. Why couldn't he break through her defences, no matter how he tried?

"CONFRINGO," he said again, and like the first time, he fully destroyed her shield charm, but it left him feeling weak-headed as he was getting drained magically and so was unable to capitalize on the opportunity.

Harry began to hear jeers break out among the Slytherin students as they mocked the fact that one of their own couldn't even defeat a muggle-born. It hardly mattered that Harry and Hermione were both perfuming a level of magic far beyond what they were capable of. It didn't matter that Harry and Hermione were both exerting themselves to the limit. They only saw a disgraceful parity…

Getting angry, Harry mustered the last reserves of his energy and fired a series of spells creatively in a vain attempt to unsettle her, leg-lockers, tickling charms, mimble wimble, sponge-knees curse, distracting flashes of light, bat-bogey hexes, Harry even transfigured a snake, but was unable to have time to control it via magical means (he was not revealing his parselmouth) as Hermione counterattacked. Exhausted as he was, he was unable to hold on to anything he transfigured, so that it vanished in a puff of smoke.

Hermione was clearly disciplined and smart enough to know that she only had to wait for Harry to exhaust himself, and thus win a stalemate of sorts. Harry knew that in his exhausted state, as soon as he was unable to cast another spell, Hermione could fire a simple stunner, and knock him out entirely…

At last with Harry on the verge of fainting due to magical exhaustion, he was unable to think clearly. Pulling out a spell from one that he had mastered in the last few weeks of reading, that he otherwise wouldn't have dared to use in full public otherwise…

"ANGUSTIO FATALIS."

Hermione's hands immediately went to her throat and her eyes bulged as she began choking, her ribs began to constrict that was violently squeezing her windpipe. She grew deathly pale and shuddered. Harry watched, swaying on the spot, before a sense of horror began to set in.

The curse had bypassed her Protego entirely and Hermione didn't know the specific counter-curse. Harry finally lifted the curse as soon as he came to his senses, but the damage had been done.

Hermione collapsed to the floor, writhing. She coughed three times, spitting out a mouthful of blood. A gaggle of Gryffindor second years soon surrounded her and Harry saw their outrage as they drew their wands to face him. They had been duelling for at least ten minutes. The entire audience seemed halfway perched between awe and revulsion, even Snape had little to say as he scrutinized both participants carefully.

"Where did you learn that spell Potter," Snape asked in a low and dangerous tone.

"Well, we've clearly finished for today," Lockhart said, still as cheerful as ever. "Weasley, Thomas, could you please escort Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing."

.

"Do you have any idea what that kind of spell does Potter?" asked Snape once they were in his office. Snape sat down at his desk leaving Harry to stand, in utter exhaustion.

"Vaguely, professor." Harry answered, wheezing slightly.

"Ten points from Slytherin." Harry stared, incredulous. Snape almost never took points off Slytherin so this was extremely serious indeed.

"Recite to me everything that you know and have read about the spell."

Harry sighed, deeply regretting the way things had gone in the duel. "Angustio Fatalis, cannot be blocked by ordinary shield charms, requires the countercurse Angustio Relaxum. Requires knowledge of relevant human physiology to cast, difficult to control."

"Continue."

"Spell effects. Causes a person's rib to contract violently on the lungs, until the target suffocates or the heart ruptures under pressure. Approximately five minutes until the target blacks out, another five until death."

"You had Miss Granger under that curse for nearly a minute I believe. But what if you had lost control in your tiredness?"

"Well, sir. I'm sure being an extremely experienced practitioner yourself, you would have known the counter-curse immediately."

Snape glared at Harry with renewed malice, for calling him out on exactly the same thing that he was now criticizing Harry over, namely interest in the Dark Arts. But Harry noticed that Snape was not as angry as he usually was whenever he crossed the line, at least in the conventional sense. Instead he looked more weary than anything.

"But you used that against a fellow student, a second year nonetheless."

"I'll apologize to her first thing."

"I am giving you one chance and warning to show that I am utterly serious in this instance. Otherwise I would personally go to the headmaster and advise upon your suspension." Snape refused to look directly at him as he said this.

Harry nodded quickly, his right hand was clenching his wand so tightly that his knuckles appeared white.


	38. Chapter 38

Later Harry would learn precisely why he was having trouble duelling. He couldn't use martial magic effectively at his age, because his "magical core" wasn't fully developed yet. And so with the use of heavy spells like the reductor curse, he needed a space of recovery time, which meant effectively that he couldn't use it in a duel for another couple of years.

Realizing that it wasn't something that he could overcome until he was old enough was a source of great frustration to Harry. Having taken out a book from the Restricted Section on magical development, he learned that the magical core usually expands in tandem with physical puberty, and thus girls would undergo it first. So in all likelihood, at the moment, Hermione had a larger core than him, in addition she was almost a year older.

Furthermore, Harry tested his magical limits on several watermelons that he had filched from the breakfast table and found that he could not pull off more than three reducto curses in a row without getting light-headed. The more powerful expulso curse, he couldn't quite use, as he simply didn't have the raw latent, magical power in him yet. So Harry contented himself with reading up and practicing basic duelling stances, movements, and wand strokes.

On the other hand, the entirety of Slytherin House, or at least the lower year students was in an ecstatic mood of glee. Granger was much hated among the second years of Slytherin House, presumably because her constant question-answering was making them all look bad in public and it challenged their preconceptions of what it meant to be muggle-born.

So as could have been predicted, their reaction was one of unbridled joy at Hermione's comeuppance to Harry's great disgust. They spent most of the following day complimenting him for his knowledge of the curse and him daring to use it against that uppity mudblood. It was sickening to listen to and even more sickening to have to pretend. Harry felt guiltier and more depressed than ever. He had only used that spell in the heat of the duel and in a state of near exhaustion at the very end and regretted it almost immediately.

On the plus side, Hermione was now quite popular within her house for having stood up to that budding dark wizard Potter who clearly must been gifted in the Dark Arts to have survived Voldemort, which was an explanation that Harry himself found half-convincing. There was simply no longer the possibility of her being bullied by her fellow House Mates, they now stood by her in her absolute defence, every time he chanced to pass her way. And even though Harry wanted to sarcastically say that Hermione didn't need their pathetic protection, when she was ten times the witch that any of them could yet hope to be. But he hardly wanted to make his name even more mud among the Gryffindors.

But their constant whispers in the corridors of how he was a dark wizard with hidden fearsome powers unnerved him as well, although he didn't show it and was careful to maintain a stoical facade. It did explain how he could have survived, and perhaps was an indication of his magical superiority. But upon reflection, he dismissed the idea when he contemplated all the times he had been bullied by seventh years (even if he did manage to get his revenge on them later), and the great amount of struggle that had been involved in learning advanced magic. He felt he could even detect the professors looking at him with a deeper mistrust, and Madame Pomfrey seemed much less friendly than before.

.

Professor Snape was soon due to the Headmaster's office to give his account of the events that had swept through the school. Personally, feeling quite conflicted over the turn of events, who knew that Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter would show himself to be interested and talented in the Dark Arts? But more importantly, was that cause for worry or was this simply the fulfillment of the prophecy, the necessary means by which Potter would ultimately challenge and defeat the Dark Lord? So Snape found himself forced to reevaluate what he thought he knew about Potter again. And that annoyed him greatly, when he felt he could never really pin down what Potter was about.

He entered the office automatically without a greeting and Dumbledore was, as always waiting for him.

"Ah, Severus. Have you mused on Harry's duelling performance enough?"

Snape paused before turning to address Dumbledore. "And what you think I should be thinking about the boy?"

"That depends on what intuitions you have drawn from the events that you have seen. Care to leave your memory of the incident in my Pensieve to examine?" Snape walked over to the silver container of Dumbledore's in response and withdrew a single strand of memory with his wand. "I sentenced him to a week of detentions."

"That will do."

"So what do you think about this with respect to your immediate intuitions without actually seeing the incident?"

"I believe I have faith in Harry and the purity of his intentions and will continue to have such faith until I see evidence to the contrary. I am inclined to believe that it is merely a confused twelve year old's wayward experimentation with magic than anything truly serious."

"Absolute faith in the prophecy," Snape asked scrutinizing Dumbledore with the closest thing resembling a sneer that he ever could muster before the venerable Headmaster.

"Always, Severus. It is after all, the only hope we have left. Voldemort cannot be overcome by any other way… as he seeks to be the nothing less than the embodiment of hatred and power."

Snape said nothing but stared instead at Fawkes who had suddenly burst into flame to be reborn again as a featherless hatchling. "I am actually more troubled as to where he might be learning such spells, that second years certainly do not normally have access to," Dumbledore continued,

"I believe you have other reasons for believing as you do, that you are refusing to share…"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled but he said nothing about it. "My concern is that perhaps whoever is behind the opening of the Chamber of Secrets may be teaching Harry dark magic, even if he doesn't know what they are doing. I really don't see how he could have learnt it otherwise…"

Snape's eyes flashed as he made the connection.

.

From then on, Harry could no longer access the Restricted Section easily (except sometimes under the cloak), but over the weeks and months he had copied using magic numerous relevant and important books so that he could continue to progress long into the future.

It took several days, but finally he managed to find some time alone to apologize to Hermione, again the Library was essentially the only place they could ever converse discreetly, without other Gryffindors and Slytherins goggling at them and making their inappropriate remarks about how Gryffindors and Slytherins should never get too friendly, or that it was a waste of time talking to muggleborns, ect, ect.

He saw that she had been half-avoiding him all the while, and so he was unsure how to proceed or how she might have processed what he had done to her so Harry felt terribly nervous, as nervous since the last time when Hermione had almost been killed when he had been forced to retrieve the philosopher's stone, and he had bluffed with her life

He went over to the usual table where she worked where she was scrawling absent-mindedly what looked like potions homework and hesitated when she didn't look up.

"May I sit?"

Hermione nodded, still not looking at him and gestured. He sat down heavily and began tapping the table lightly with his wand, feeling like an utter fool.

"About that other day," he finally began…

"I saw you that other day during the Quidditch match," she said smiling in a false sort of way at him. "You're a great flier…"

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch very much." She was apparently avoiding the topic.

Hermione made a noncommittal sort of sound and returned to her homework.

"Listen, about that day when we duelled at Lockhart's stupid club, I sort of lost my temper." Harry said speaking as honestly as he could. "That spell I used… way out of line I understand. Shouldn't have taken it so seriously after all. So I'm sorry and I hope you weren't injured badly…"

He was babbling kind of and it was really quite embarrassing and a sight to behold.

Hermione had finally stopped writing, pushed the parchment away from her, and looked at him directly in the eye. "Honestly, Potter. I think I understand now that you are a wizard learning dark magic, or at least a wizard who aspires to learn such magic. I know this because you were willing to use dark magic without warning in a practice, friendly duel, when there was nothing at stake except your pride."

"I also want you to know that obviously I will not be competing with you in this regard, because unlike you apparently, I am not a power-obsessed lunatic."

Harry shrank from her words, but he could offer no rebuttal to them, except the shrieking voice inside of him that insisted he was learning all this stuff just to defend against Voldemort. But how true was that exactly?

"I mean, how exactly am I supposed to feel as a muggleborn, being cursed by you in public, with all your Slytherin pals jeering afterwards? In front of everyone, at a time when muggleborns are being subject to attacks…"

"Essentially by pulling off that little stunt of yours, you have excused the casual use of dark magic, by learning and using it against me." Hermione said carefully.

Harry could think of nothing further to say, so he offered an apology again, which Hermione sort of half-accepted with a fair amount of doubt before returning to her work.

That very day, Justin Finch-Fletchley, a second year muggleborn from Hufflepuff was left petrified next to the ghost of Nearly Headless Nick and the castle and its students formally entered a state of sheer panic. Half the muggleborns of the school were withdrawn and the rest were escorted to and fro their classes by teachers.

.

Dear Father

It has been a month since I've written to you about my victory in the Slytherin Quidditch match against Gryffindor and already there have been two further attacks as I'm sure you've been told. The Mudbloods in the castle are scurrying in fright and very soon it seems that all of them will be withdrawn altogether. If it really is the Chamber of Secrets and its monster doing this, it seems Salazar Slytherin was correct in predicting that his monster would one day purge the school of unworthy elements and purify this sacred learning institution.

However I write this time mainly to inform you that I have at last seen signs of dark magic prowess in Potter, that you told me to look out for ever since he and I made acquaintance. In a duel with Mudblood Granger, Potter lost his temper and performed Angustio Fatalis, a spell I was initially unfamiliar with. Upon asking several seventh year Slytherins, I learned that it was a very powerful dark spell that second years simply could not easily learn for themselves.

You told me that should I be confident that Harry will become a powerful dark wizard or perhaps the next Dark Lord of the future, that I should befriend him for the benefit of this family. Initially like you, I was disappointed as Potter seemed to be an ordinary first year, exhibiting no extraordinary power about him. Even after having encouraged the seventh years to bully him to test whether he had hidden powers, which is what you suggested, I was unable to discern how he had survived the Dark Lord as an infant? Was it simply dumb luck as you and I speculated in previous letters?

This time however, I advise that we should invite Potter to our annual Christmas Eve's Party even though it has only ever been attended by pureblood families of the Sacred 28. I believe that the recent reveal of his powers warrants that we get to know him better to find out what he might be hiding. I personally am confident that Harry Potter will be a great dark wizard for the future and thus I will be doing all I can to befriend him.

Your faithful son

Draco.

P.S. As an additional plus, it seems Potter's friendship with that mudblood Granger has been wrecked forever following these events, in addition I have overheard that Granger's muggle parents are contemplating taking her out of the school. It can't be long before we can have her removed from our midst.

.

Harry's response to being invited to the Malfoy's party was to say to Draco's face that he would be glad to come and couldn't wait for it. Of course implicit between their exchange was the understanding that Harry had nowhere else to go for Christmas anyways (out of all the Slytherins), and so of course he would be free to attend.

Harry immediately began to work on learning the art of portkey creation. Having decided not to inform the Headmaster if he was successful in doing so (no need to make himself any more dependent), thus providing him with a fail-safe exit route if Lucius should attempt to kill him or hand him over to Voldemort, he would spend the following weeks focused on that task. Even though unauthorized portkeys were strictly speaking illegal, like many Ministry edicts such as the prohibition on underage magic, practitioners were hardly ever caught.

Harry's rationale for becoming a "dark wizard" as perceived by the pureblood elites, was an attempt to wrest Voldemort's pureblood support away from him. Having been weak for so long, with no prospect of returning to power, and with great doubts as to whether he was even alive, Harry calculated the pureblood community would be amenable to the prospect of an up and coming Dark Wizard who would defend their interests in the future against the "progressive" Ministry. So by apparently being just such a dangerous prospect, Harry would use fear, intimidation, as well as greed namely the desire to control and influence him if he should grow very powerful, to gain influence and connections within pureblood circles. He would make use of the mystique surrounding his name and the circumstances of his survival against Lord Voldemort to counteract Voldemort's pureblood support, to divide and weaken his enemies. To trick them perhaps into believing that he also believed in their ideals and so if Voldemort returned, they would be split at least initially between helping him (who had defeated Voldemort once) or siding with the Dark Lord. In any case, Harry needed to learn dark magic anyways to stand a chance against Voldemort in the future

If that would make many conclude that he was the natural powerful heir to Voldemort's rule, that would just be a psychological bonus. Just as many who had concluded the opposite, that he was the saviour of the wizarding community from all Dark Wizards, but Harry saw that ultimately he needed the support of Purebloods more than the rest of the wizarding community. That was because Voldemort was sufficiently terrible enough that the rest of society definitely wouldn't hesitate to support him if they really had to choose between him and Voldemort.

It was all really stupid to Harry to be honest, but he was willing to make use of whatever was given to him. In addition, going to the party was also an opportunity to observe Lucius and the Malfoys of course, maybe he would find more clues as to how the attacks were occurring?

"What are you idiots doing here?"

Harry had spotted Crabbe and Goyle at the entrance of the Great Hall after supper looking uncharacteristically thoughtful and worried. That had been enough to suggest that something was off but Crabbe and Goyle was showing some very odd facial mannerisms and body movements like they didn't feel at all comfortable in their own skin.

"Yeah we were just looking to get back to the common room?" The other scratched his head and looked even more nervous. They obviously had no idea where that common room even was and Harry knew that Crabbe and Goyle weren't nearly that stupid.

"Well, follow me you dolts," Harry said playing along and he led them to the dungeons where under the cover of relative darkness he stunned them both and removed their wands, and found they had a pair of wands each. So, Polyjuice then. Harry conjured ropes, threw his trusty invisibility cloak over them and levitated them both into an unused classroom.

Ten minutes later they both came to, staring sheepishly at Harry who stared back at them fingering their wands. One of the two, "Goyle", was looking absolutely terrified.

"Well you've obviously done a very thorough job, whoever the hell you are," Harry said. "Uniforms, wands, plus hair, not to mention the other ingredients for Polyjuice Just tell me please what exactly did you hope to achieve with this little stunt?"

"Goyle" looked at "Crabbe" with even more fear and Harry just instantly knew that that this one was actually "Neville Longbottom."

"I don't know what you're talking about Potter," said "Crabbe" with what was an admirable attempt to look outraged. "Unbind us immediately or we'll go to Professor Snape on you."

Harry's eyes flashed as that one stung. Pulling out his own wand as "Goyle" flinched massively and closed his eyes, he simply conjured a chair for himself and sat down. It was absolutely hilarious to watch such physical specimens that Crabbe and Goyle really were, reduced to near tears. "I'd love to see what Snape would do to two students from other Houses who tried to infiltrate his beloved Slytherin House for unknown purposes," Harry replied nastily. "In any case if you refuse to confess, we'll simply wait out the potion and then I can hand you both to Professor McGonagoll or Snape, or both." Harry withdrew a DADA book from his bag and calmly began to read.

There was a moment of silence then "Goyle" said tearfully, "I'm Neville." "Crabbe" glared at him for a second before looking defiantly back at Harry. "And I'm Ron." "I see," Harry said still surveying them as he put away his book. "Well now, I want to know what you were thinking and why you pulled off this particular plot, before I decide whether or not to hand you off to a teacher…"

"It's the Chamber of Secrets," "Crabbe" said reluctantly. "We're sure that one of you snakes must be behind this."

"A reasonable conclusion to make," Harry agreed. "So you decided to infiltrate Slytherin House for the purposes of acquiring information. Not a bad plan I suppose, although the pair of you are really terrible actors. Not that Goyle and Crabbe are particularly easy to imitate, they may be stupid, but they're stupid in their particular way you see. Anyways, why didn't the two of you consider asking me what I know? I'm part of Slytherin house."

There was another moment of awkward silence before Harry chuckled. "I guess you thought that I was possibly involved as well. Makes sense logically. Speaking for myself, I guess that sometimes when you're so busy thinking of the problem, you forget that you yourself may not be entirely above suspicion to other people."

The tension between them was starting to lighten somewhat and "Goyle" managed a weak smile, Harry vanished the ropes allowing them to sit up and spent the next few minutes relaying everything he knew about Slytherin house and what various people had said regarding the Chamber of Secrets.

"Come off it," Harry told them, "Who brewed the potion for you? I know you could never pull off something this complex..."

"Well looks like Hermione was right to suspect Malfoy first," Ron said without thinking which caused Neville to eye him reproachfully.

"So she's involved in this then?" Harry regarded them. "Well at the very least she doesn't suspect me…"

"Crabbe" and "Goyle" both fell silent.

"So you did think that I had something to do with this?" Harry asked, aghast.

"We thought that Malfoy was behind this, me and Hermione never suspected you," said "Goyle" honestly. "As for Ron…"

"I thought you could have had something to do with it," admitted "Crabbe", "Wasn't sure. Guess I was completely wrong…"

Harry snorted. "Seriously, Weasley, you might have remembered how much I tried to keep you from bullying Hermione, a muggleborn, since the beginning of this year as well as the last, before you start accusing me of wanting to murder them." But judging from their reserved expressions, he still wasn't sure whether they believed him entirely or not, or what they would go on to tell Hermione.

"I'll keep you posted with developments that occur in Slytherin House," Harry said finally, "at least stuff that is at all related to the Chamber of Secrets. Even though it technically makes me a traitor… Or I'm willing to speak to Hermione directly, if she's at all inclined to listen to me."

"Crabbe" glowered, obviously remembering Harry's curse. Harry sighed, then let them leave, allowing them to claim their actual wands, while he went back down to the Slytherin dormitories to return the other pair.


End file.
